


One Eyed Mage

by FrostedGear



Series: One Eyed Mage AU [2]
Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Erratic Updates, Gen, Handholding, Healthy!Raist, Kinda AU, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant?, Raistlin's not got hourglass eyes, Slow Burn, just regular borked, or superborked health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25484704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGear/pseuds/FrostedGear
Summary: Raistlin left Solace seventeen years ago. This had a knock on effect on his relationship with the companions and his twin. But now, as war looms on the horizon, Raistlin returns to his homeland a mage of Lunitari, his pale blue eyes seeing more than they ever have.Slow burn romance. Raistlin/Sturm. Surprisingly canon.
Relationships: Raistlin Majere/Sturm Brightblade, background Riverwind/Goldmoon
Series: One Eyed Mage AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823470
Comments: 15
Kudos: 16





	1. Brother's Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the main instalment of the One Eyed Mage AU. The main fic as it were. I'm still writing it, but it should hopefully span the length of the original chronicles trilogy in terms of story, with the occasional one-shot being posted to the collection when I want to write a thing but it doesn't actually fit anywhere.
> 
> I've 30k written so far that needs editing and then posting here, and hopefully I'll find a schedule, but we'll see. Atm I seem to be doing more writing than editing or posting.

Raistlin Majere sighed, panting lightly as he finally reached the top of the long flight of stairs separating the tree-top town of Solace from the ground. This particular set ran from the stables to the Inn Of Last Home, the destination of the tired, saddle sore mage, who was hoping for a hearty meal and a soft bed. Stifling a yawn and leaning gently on his staff, the mage made his way into the brightly lit inn.

The inn was crowded, much more so than he remembered. Raistlin was forced to push his slight frame against the wall for several long moments as people pushed both in and out of the establishment. After a few moments of searching, he spotted a spare seat near the fire and made his way slowly over, throwing his cowl up over his head on the off chance someone recognised him and tried to get between him and a well-earned sit down. The seat he ended up procuring was at the end of a table occupied by a rag-tag band of misfits, including a kender, a dwarf and what looked to be a Solamnic Knight straight out of the Cataclysm. Raistlin made no movement to greet them, nor did the group acknowledge him, nor tell him to leave, which suited the mage just fine.

Left to his own devices, Raistlin dropped his pack beside him, kicked it under his chair and examined his money pouch, staff in the crook of his arm. He'd spent a few coins on the care of his horse, but figured he would have enough to suit his need.

"-It's from Kitiara. She's not coming."

Raistlin glanced up at that, surprised to hear the name of his half-sister. Even as the dwarf at the table started going on about "bad luck", the mage watched subtly as all eyes fell on a huge, bulky warrior in golden armour at the opposite end of the table. It took Raistlin a while to cotton on as to why.

"It's not like Kit to break an oath like that. What does she say?" asked the big man frowning heavily. Caramon, Raistlin realised. He hadn't seen his brother in over a decade, though the mage was irritated he hadn't recognised Caramon straight away. Still, perhaps he wouldn't need that room at the inn now.

The conversation continued and Raistlin listened, quietly filing away information on his estranged family and their associates. Eventually, the barmaid that was conversing with them turned to Raistlin, apparently only just noticing he was without food or drink.

"Sorry, can I get you anything, sir?" the redhead asked, drawing the glances of the dwarf and half-elf. The dwarf curled his lip and seemed to try to say something, only to be stopped by the half-elf, who hastily drew attention back to their comrades, leaving Raistlin his peace once again.

"A glass of wine and spiced potatoes I suppose," he answered softly, plucking out two steel coins and holding them out between thin fingers. The wench seemed almost enchanted by him, and Raistlin was fascinated in turn by this reaction. Still, she took his money and actually returned rather swiftly with his drink and a promise of food shortly, all the while dealing with the other patrons seemingly effortlessly.

"Her name's Tika!" supplied a kender helpfully, appearing at Raistlin's side, hand buried in one of Raistlin's pouches. The young man slapped an instinctive hand to his belt, where the pouch should have been, before gripping the kender's hand with his other. "I'm Tasslehoff Burfoot, by the way," Tas chirruped, mistaking Raistlin's grip for a handshake and spilling the fur Raistlin had been keeping in the pouch all over the floor. "My friends call me Tas."

"Sorry about him," muttered the knight gruffly, plucking the leather pouch from Tas and handing it to Raistlin, while simultaneously pulling the kender away from the mage. Clearly the knight was used to doing this, even as he looked distastefully at Raistlin, looking more at his red robes than his hooded face. Nodding in thanks, Raistlin stooped down to collect his fallen spell components.

Tika delivered his food soon after and Raistlin picked at it absently, trying to figure out how best to approach Caramon after so long. He noticed Tika going off to deal with a Seeker, presumably of some rank considering the lushness of his robes. And drunk, considering the empty cups on his table. The kender, Tasslehoff, had wandered off again to listen to an old man telling stories by the fire, with the drunken Seeker not far away, watching intently, lip curled in distaste.

The old man had also entranced two Plainsmen, identifiable by their heavy furs, and was coaxing the female to sing about the old gods, which would tie in nicely with the story of Paladine and Takhisis he had been telling. _She has a nice voice_ , Raistlin thought, sipping his wine, _though she should have chosen a different song_. The inn had stopped dead as the woman's final notes faded - for what else would happen when you sing of heresy? Not that the mage truly cared. The Bezoralites had had religious authority in Solace before the Seekers, and had been the main reason for Raistlin's departure. He'd take the old gods over the new charlatan tripe any day.

"Blasphemy!" the Seeker jabbed a finger at the old man as he pulled himself to his feet, swaying alarmingly. "Heretic! Corrupting our youth!" He made a call for arrest, claiming the woman's song had been lewd and that she was a witch.

"Please. That tune had nothing on 'Necrophilliac's Picnic'," Raistlin muttered scathingly, apparently none too quietly, for the Seeker soon swerved to face him, swaying alarmingly.

"Quiet, you hevenoush mage! I'll take both your schtaff's!" He lugged forward on unsteady legs, arms outstretched for both Raistlin's staff and the one the Plainswoman was clutching.

"No, that is mine," she said with a flash of teeth, her accent thick, "You cannot take it."

The Seeker made a swipe for her staff, "I'm the High Theocrat, I'll take what I want!" Her companion, the Plainsman, who Raistlin guessed to be even taller than Caramon, gave the Theocrat a light shove, though it knocked the drunkard backward, his arms flailing wildly, both for balance and for a grab at Raistlin's staff, which Raistlin also moved out of the way with a sneer, smacking the man’s hand away and watching as the Plainsman’s shove sent him into the firepit.

Apparently 'expensive' was tailor-speak for 'highly flammable', for the High Theocrat went up in a whoosh of flame, screaming and stumbling about like a firework gone awry. It would have been comical, had they not been sitting in a wooden pub attached to a tree.

Against all odds, it was the kender that saved the inn, smacking the Seeker in the chest with the Plainswoman's staff, which suddenly radiated a blue light, transforming to give the appearance of being made of blue crystal. "How curious..." Raistlin stretched a hand out, wondering if it was magic, not caring for the no longer smouldering twit on the floor. Around him, people marvelled at how the staff had saved the High Theocrat, repairing his burned flesh in the process.

"It healed him!" the old man shouted, then, seeming to have a change in heart, cried louder, "Call the guards! Arrest the kender! Arrest the mage! Arrest the barbarians and their friends, I saw them come in with those two!" He pointed a finger at Caramon and the knight.

"Are you crazy old man?!" the half-elf yelled back, rising to his feet. Raistlin spluttered staring wide eyed at the old man, in complete agreement with the half-elf. As the others at the table rose, word spread and cries of "Guards!" could be heard further and further back.

As if to make matters worse or perhaps simply annoyed he was no longer the centre of attention, the High Theocrat yelled at the top of his voice, "Foul witches! You have cursed me with evil, and I will burn to purify my flesh!" Spit flew from his lips in his ire, and, before anyone could stop him, he thrust his hand into the fire, hardly making a sound as he waited for his skin to burn and blister.

 _What a moron!_ Raistlin could hardly believe what he was seeing. Seemingly satisfied with himself, the Seeker pulled his hand back, and went off, blending into the crowd. Raistlin watched, stupefied with bewilderment.

"You have to leave!" Tika implored the group, running over, drawing Raistlin back to the problem at hand, "Everyone's looking for that blue staff, you'll all be torn to pieces for it!"

"It's not ours!" Caramon complained. The dwarf gave him a shove, "Like that matters. The lady's right, we have to go!"

His half-elven companion glared at the old man before taking charge. "To the kitchen." All the companions pulled out their weapons, waving them threateningly at anyone who tried to approach as they shifted toward the kitchen, Raistlin and the Plainsmen following. Well, all except the knight, who looked to be under the impression he was at a tea party, so calm was he as he continued his ale.

The mage and Plainswoman clutched their respective staffs close to them as they hurried past, joining most of the group huddling around a trap door.

"Where's Tanis?" asked the dwarf while the kender marvelled at the pulley system going through the hole in the floor.

"He doubled back," Caramon answered, head turned to the kitchen door. He smiled sympathetically to Raistlin and the Plainsmen, "Looks like we're stuck together for a little while."

“He went for the knight?” the Plainsman asked. Standing on his tiptoes, Raistlin could see the knight arguing with the half-elf, Tanis presumably.

“Yes, he’s a bit stubborn,” Caramon said meaningfully. “He’s a good man though. Both of them are.”

Tasslehoff jumped onto the rope and gleefully shimmied down. Tika turned to the Plainswoman, "Sorry about this, but it's the only way out now."

"I can climb a rope - though it has been a while," the woman noted, though was swift in her decent. Her larger companion passed - or rather, dropped - their equipment down before following.

"Okay, the mage next," Caramon waved him over. "Want me to hold your pack?"

Raistlin shook his head. Holding his pack and staff tightly, he took a calming breath and stepped out into the air, foregoing the rope entirely, much to a collection of shocked gasps, though the mage didn't hear them as he focused on his magic. " _Pvetherfal_." The speed of his decent slowed to almost nothing, the faceted crystal atop his staff glowing faintly with magic.

"Oh wow that was so cool!" exclaimed Tas, staring up at Raistlin. "Can you cast a spell on me?"

"Not now you idiot kender!" stormed the dwarf, grabbing Tas by the collar of his shirt and dragging him away from the rope as Caramon descended, the dwarf shooting Raistlin a worried look as he went.

Tanis dropped down after the knight, "We're heading for Tika's house-"

"Ooh! I know the way!" Tasslehoff interrupted, "Follow me!"

Having rather little choice, the group followed the kender through the trees as soon as the knight joined them, seemingly persuaded to flee for the moment, the sounds of thumping footfalls above indicating the guards were still in pursuit. Raistlin had rarely wandered the ground below Solace and even if he had, it had been too long since he was last here. He was completely lost. Thankfully the dwarf was slow, or else he may not have kept up with the group.

In the light of the few lamps that hung below the wooden walkways of Solace, the mage could make out the kender scampering up a tree, with the group huddled below. Caramon reached up, testing a branch before following slowly.

One he joined the group, the knight nudged him, "You next, mage." It was just the two of them left.

Raistlin had never been a strong climber, and reluctantly told the knight so. The man stroked his long moustaches thoughtfully before replying. "I have lived in this town for much of my life, as children we climbed the trees here all the time. I'll support you up."

"Why are you helping?" Raistlin frowned, moving closer to the tree all the same.

The knight shifted himself up and put a hand down for Raistlin. "We appear to be in this together, it would be unkind not to offer assistance when you have said you cannot do this alone."

He hadn't put it quite like that. Still, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so carefully secured his staff to his pack and took the man's hand. They traversed much slower than the others, a combination of Raistlin's weak strength and the awkwardness of climbing up a tree while clutching his pack. Eventually though, they made it and followed the others through the door to what must have been Tika's house.

Planning to wait the evening’s drama out here, the group made themselves at home, with the knight going off to find the woman a chair, her gigantic companion coming up to stand behind it. Raistlin went over to the fire, plopping down on the hearth while the dwarf stirred flames into life. The kender pulled the curtains shut, but Caramon had nudged one open to keep watch.

The half-elf came to stand before the group, his gaze skimming across Raistlin and the Plainsmen. "I'm sorry for all of this, I've no idea what's going on." His gaze lingered on the woman's staff. Her guardian made a low, protective growl.

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?" Caramon suggested, ever the peacekeeper. "I'm Caramon Majere."

"I'm Tasslehoff Burrfoot, my friends call me Tas, and this is Flint!" Tas said brightly, pointing at the dwarf.

"My name is Tanis. Tanis Half-Elven."

The knight went next, bowing, "Sturm of House Brightblade." Raistlin blinked. He knew the name but hadn’t recognised the man under his moustaches.

"We are Goldmoon and Riverwind," the woman supplied. All eyes fell to Raistlin, many laced with suspicion.

Unperturbed, the mage sat straighter, and raised his hand to push back his cowl, allowing the group to finally see his face. Well the half that wasn't covered by an overgrown side fringe of auburn hair, hiding his right eye. "My name is Raistlin. Raistlin Majere."

Sturm stared at him, eyes widening. Caramon came over slowly. "Raist?"

"Flint, what's going on? Do Caramon and Raistlin know each other? Oh! Are they cousins?" Tas whispered excitedly.

"How should I know, doorknob!"

"They're twins," Sturm supplied. "But Raistlin... no one's seen him in years."

Caramon flung himself at Raistlin, trapping him in a hug, "I thought you were dead!"

Raistlin squirmed. "I will be if you don't let go!" he gasped as the air was squeezed from his lungs. Caramon released him quickly, mumbling an apology, though he still grinned widely at his twin.

"Why would you feign death?" the tall barbarian - Riverwind - asked, frowning at the mage.

Raistlin shrugged, "I didn't. I ran away from home as a child. How was I to know the consequences at that age?"

"But where did you go?" Caramon implored.

"Later!" Tanis hissed, "Someone's coming!"

And indeed, now that they were all paying attention, they could hear the banging and padding footfalls of guards checking homes. A door to door check, Raistlin noted as thumping could be heard on the door beside theirs.

"The Seekers demand entry!" hollered a voice, "No one home. Kick it in?"

"Naw, let the Theocrat do it if he wants - if it's open, now that different," replied his comrade. Looking to the door of their hiding place, Raistlin stared - it was ajar. Beside him, Tanis cursed, also seeing the problem.

"The door," Tanis whispered, "Caramon-"

The big man took up position behind the ajar door, large hands poised to strike while Raistlin and Flint hurried to bat the fire out of the hearth. A knock on the door caused it to swing open. "The Seek-oh. Must be empty."

"You've no imagination - let's go in, there could be some coins about."

A goblin poked his head around the door, his companion following. Even in the dim light they could make out the companions huddled into the house. One reached for a whistle at his side. Caramon took that moment to step forward and bash the two together head first, causing them to crumple to the ground.

"Dead?" Tanis questioned. Caramon nodded sadly after checking them. "Well that's torn it. We can't lie low now we've killed some of the guards - we better get out of here before more come." He looked over at Raistlin and the barbarians. "You should come with us. Better in numbers than alone."

"Wherever we're going," Flint huffed, getting up.

"Where _were_ each of you heading?" Sturm wondered.

"Haven," Riverwind supplied reluctantly, "And you?" he shot at Raistlin.

"Here more or less," Raistlin admitted with a shrug, also rising to his feet. "I was looking for Caramon."

"You were?" Caramon looked happy at that, "Raist that's-"

"Not now!" Tanis interrupted hotly, getting between the brothers, stopping Caramon from hugging Raistlin again. "We need to go, every goblin in Solace will be looking for us soon enough. If we make it look like a struggle, Tika won’t get in trouble,” he added. “She can play it off as the goblins obviously stopping a burglar.”

The man’s friends nodded, Flint and Tas going off to the cupboards, raiding them and making it look like a careless robbery while Sturm and Caramon arranged the goblins to at least look like some kind of battle had taken place. Riverwind and Goldmoon kept out of the way while Raistlin watched the other men, wondering how long the companions had been friends to work so well together with little communication.

They got down the same way they got up. Raistlin sighed, leaning against the tree while they waited for Tanis to come back from a quick scout. The mage was growing weary, he really didn't want to go much further. He glanced in the direction of the stables. His horse was lost, no question, but it was still irritating.

Wind blew past the group, causing Raistlin to shiver and pull his robes closer around him, cowl going back up, stopping his hair from blowing around his face. Riverwind seemed exhausted in the flickering lamp light, though he hid it well, as did Goldmoon.

"We need some place to spend the night," Sturm commented to Tanis, who had just returned.

"Agreed," he said looking the group over, gaze lingering on Riverwind, before looking back to the knight. "Wind's changing, they'll be rain by morning."

"What about Crystalmir Lake?" Tas suggested. "There's caves we could use." He and Tanis talked a moment more in low voices before the kender went off, looking almost frighteningly happy.

"Do you have to keep that hood up?" Flint asked Raistlin irritably, "It's off-putting."

"I'm cold. I'll pull it down again when we rest," Raistlin answered tersely. He knew his hood hid his face. That was the point. Raistlin didn't care that the dwarf was clearly as fond of mages as most of his race, which was to say, not very.

It seemed Flint wasn't the only one uneasy, the barbarians shot all of them suspicions looks, which Raistlin could hardly blame them for - Caramon and Sturm looked like half a walking armoury. Then there was the bearded half-elf and the fact a _kender_ was part of the group.

The group started moving, Caramon and Raistlin leading with the Plainsmen not far behind, the rest following.

"So, what have you been doing with yourself, Raist?" Caramon asked, a jovial smile on his face.

His brother shrugged, "This and that. I took the Test at the Tower of High Sorcery," he added, gesturing to his red robes.

"Wow, I hear they're really hard." Caramon frowned thinking on it, "Wait... How did you get to do that? You only studied for a year or two..."

Raistlin rolled his eyes. "I got a new master, obviously." Caramon made a hurt face at Raistlin's harsh tone, but didn't end the conversation.

"The hair's nice." Raistlin arched an eyebrow.

"Get off," he smacked Caramon's hand away from his fringe.

Flint stomped up beside them, muttering under his breath.

"Something the matter, Flint?" Caramon wondered.

"Boat." Was the gruff reply, causing the big man to laugh. "Flint can't swim," Caramon explained to the confused Plainsmen and his brother.

Flint jabbed a finger at Caramon, "You tried to drown me!" The two bickered a little more, but Raistlin was distracted. He turned back to the way they had come from and saw the lights of torches on the horizon. He could see Tanis and Sturm looking at them too. The Half-elf ran to catch up with them.

"Guards!" he hissed, "We need to hurry!"

They quickened their pace and pushed through bushes, eventually reaching the lake. The wind blew harder, rippling the dark surface of the water. Raistlin turned back again to the direction of the lights. He gave them ten minutes before they'd be caught.

"Where's Tas?" Tanis whispered, looking around.

Caramon pointed to a dark object near the shore, "There, I think." The big man turned out to be correct as the clouds shifted so the red and silver moons could illuminate the lake, allowing them to see the kender, boat and all.

"What wonderful targets we're going to make." Sturm wasn't impressed and Raistlin silently agreed. Still a boat was faster and _slightly_ safer than racing around the width of the lake. Hopefully the clouds would obscure the lake before they reached land again, hiding their trail.

All the same, Tanis signalled in the boat and gestured the others to meet Tas, turning to further argue with the dwarf. Caramon swore as they stumbled down the bank, glancing over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Goldmoon asked.

"Whistles," Raistlin answered, hearing them too.

"Goblin search parties use them to stay in contact," Sturm added.

Caramon moved to help Tas steady the boat. "Won't be long now, hurry. Get in."

"I'm going back for Tanis, we’ll drag Flint if we have to," Sturm huffed realising Tanis and Flint still hadn’t arrived. "Those whistles are getting closer, we can't dally anymore."

"I'm here!" Tanis said panting. "Flint's not coming, he's heading for the hills, so everyone get in the boat." Sturm slung his leg over, following the mage and Plainsmen who had already settled. Tanis clambered in next. Caramon was about to push the boat off when a call rang out.

"Wait! I'm coming!" Flint cried, stomping down, "Hold the damn boat!"

"Caramon, hold it!" Tanis yelled, throwing a hand out.

Sturm started to stand, "Flint! There's goblins on your tail!" The dwarf didn't turn to check, he put his head down and pelted it, one hand on his helmet to keep it on. Tanis unslung his bow, knocking an arrow.

"I'll cover him, get ready to shove off, Caramon."

Tanis loosed several arrows swiftly as Flint ran, once he was in reach Caramon was forced to practically throw the dwarf into the boat, causing it to rock violently. Tas took that as his queue to start rowing, causing Tanis to tumble back and fall to the floor of the boat at the sudden movement. Raistlin pitched to the side, spared a tumble overboard by Sturm grabbing him, pulling him close while the boat jostled.

Pressed against the knight's ancient armour, Raistlin had no idea what was going on for long moments. He could hear movement and as he pulled away from Sturm, saw Caramon clamber into the boat, wet with an arrow poking out of his chain shirt.

"Goblin target practice tonight," the big man commented, removing the arrow and letting it fall into the water. "We show up beautifully against the water."

"I'll bet," Sturm grunted, his hand still wrapped around Raistlin's arm.

Pulling away and using the knight's shoulder to rise and steady himself, Raistlin slipped his hand into a pouch, collecting a fistful of sand, calling the words of his spell to the forefront of his thoughts. Having mind for only his spell and the target he spoke the words of magic, barely registering the movement around him pausing as he began to chant and cast. On the shore, goblins tumbled and fell. Raistlin came out of the trance with a deep breath, slumped back into the boat with a slight cough as the chill autumn air caught in his throat.

Caramon's big hand landed on his shoulder, the knight having switched places to row at some point. "Are you okay?"

"What did you do?" implored Tanis.

"Put them to sleep," Raistlin said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and leant against Caramon for a moment. He was tired from all the travelling, and now the spell had sapped most of his remaining energy. The mage's eyes slipped closed briefly. He could feel Caramon rubbing his arms, trying to warm his slighter twin and Raistlin pushed Caramon off irritably after a moment.

"Raist-"

"I'm fine, it'll pass," Raistlin shot back angrily. Caramon remembered him as the sickly youth, he knew nothing of the strength Raistlin had grown into over the last two decades. He would have to prove himself. Shoving his hands in his sleeves, Raisltin settled against the side of the boat thinking how best to demonstrate to Caramon he could manage on his own. He was still aware of the goings on around him, but paid it little heed. There was some commotion from the Plainswoman that soon had everyone shifting.

It wasn't long before Caramon nudged him, "Raist, what's going on - I don't get it."

 _Still as dull as ever, brother_. Raistlin rolled his eyes. Seeing everyone looking at the sky, the mage pushed his hood back and looked up. He stiffened, his pale blue eyes widening.

"The constellations..." he muttered, staring transfixed at the sky.

Caramon frowned, "What about them?"

"They're gone, you idiot!" Raistlin snapped, glaring at his brother. "The Valiant Warrior and The Queen of Darkness! Both are gone!" How could his brother be so dense? There was a gaping hole in the starry sky!

"They're just stars," Caramon tried. "Maybe a cloud is in the way?"

"I do not think so," Goldmoon said, her gaze still skyward.

Sturm continued rowing for the other bank, oddly silent on the matter, for Raistlin remembered him as a child praying to Paladine, The Valiant Warrior, before spars with Kitiara and Caramon.

* * *

As they reached the embankment, rain finally started to blow in on the cold wind, a first a small spatter, but soon storm clouds came in and the weather turned harsh, soaking them to the bone.

"This way!" called Tanis as Caramon and Riverwind went off to hide the boat. They stumbled along, Tanis and Tas leading, Sturm dragging the dwarf with Goldmoon following as soon as Riverwind returned, leaving Raistlin to shuffle along behind, Caramon at his side. At first, Raistlin couldn't see the opening to the cave, but soon realised they were all slipping through a narrow gap, which he could only hope was wider inside than it appeared.

Thankfully this was the case and Raistlin was able to pull his travelling cloak off and sit by the fire Riverwind was making. The Plainsman shot him a look but didn't say anything as Raistlin shoved back his wet hood and rubbed his hands together, trying to stop shivering. Though the wood was wet, it caught sparks soon enough and started to burn.

"You get cold easily, huh?" Tanis noted, turning from where he was covering the cave entrance with brush and fallen branches. Caramon tried to take Raistlin's temperature but the mage batted him away.

"Raist's frail," Caramon said somewhat sullenly, sitting beside his disgruntled twin and offering his cloak. Raistlin refused, reaching under his thick fringe to rub at his right eye, which had begun to ache.

Sturm dumped a sopping wet Flint by the fire, his mouth set in a tight line, clearly out of patience with everything. Tasslehoff came up to Flint and put a blanket around him. The dwarf was shaking worse than Raistlin and stared into the fire, only able to mutter, "B-b-b-boat..." Tanis came over and poured the dwarf a glass of wine which was greedily consumed before offering Raistlin one. Again, Raistlin shook his head.

"I'll watch first," Sturm grunted. Glancing over, Raistlin saw the knight looking at Flint in disgust. From what he remembered of the knight as a child, Raistlin at least trusted that knight would perform his watch effectively, if not happily.

"I will watch with you," said Riverwind harshly, more like an order than an offer. Raistlin couldn't find it in himself to care and shifted to delve through his pack. If he'd one good spell, it was enchanting his belongings to withstand fire and water damage, allowing him to retrieve a dry blanket and his spellbook, submitting to the curse of his trade and going over his spells before sleeping, more or less oblivious to the battle of honour between the Plainsman and the knight.

Sooner than he'd like, his eye throbbed again, and Raistlin was forced to close his spellbook, clasping a hand over it. Looking around, the Plainsmen had fallen asleep in the back of the cave, and Sturm appeared to have gone outside to keep watch, or to simply be alone. Tanis and Tas were talking over the kender's half emptied pouches and Caramon had turned to coax Flint into resting. Trying not to attract his brother's attention, Raistlin moved slowly to lay down, hand caressing his staff, using his spellbook as a crude pillow and pulling his blanket over himself.

* * *

When Tanis had finished with Tas, he sighed, wondering how long it would take the Theocrat to find them. They didn't have many options. Looking around, he saw most of the group now asleep, bar the knight outside and the big warrior sat beside his estranged twin.

"Caramon," he called quietly, sitting beside the man.

"Turn in, Tanis. I'll watch over Raistlin."

Tanis put a hand on Caramon's arm. "Go to bed, Caramon. He'll still be there in the morning."

"But what if he isn't?" Caramon turned to him. "Seventeen years, Tanis. Seventeen years I thought my brother dead. Seventeen years I abandoned him. How can I be sure he won't be gone? Or that I've imagined all of this?"

Tanis shook his head. "I'll admit I don't know what happened back then, but I know you. You wouldn't abandon anyone, Caramon. But a lot has happened. It would be better if you rested. Who knows what tomorrow may bring?"

Caramon smiled wryly. "Maybe in a little while. Speaking of sleep, you should hit the hay too. Everyone's asleep other than us. Even the dwarf."

"Of course, because I can definitely sleep with Flint's snoring," Tanis joked. "Fine, you win, old friend. Take the watch after Sturm, but you better go to bed when I come relieve you."

Caramon nodded and when the time came, took his queue to rest, wrapping himself in his cloak, lying down close to his brother.


	2. The Wizard, The Knight and The Forest

The storm continued throughout the night, though none of the men on watch had anything to report, other than Caramon narrowly missing being struck by lightning while relieving himself. By early morning, the rain had finally ceased, though dark clouds still hung in the north. Raistlin couldn't recall the last time he'd experienced such a violent autumn storm, and Tanis, his elven side uneasy because of the weather, was eager to move as soon as possible.

Raistlin made another attempt at his spellbook in the morning, the going easier after his sleep, fitful as it was being regularly awoken by the storm, while Goldmoon and Tasslehoff cooked.

"I guess Tika ate out most nights," the kender commented while Goldmoon stirred the pot.

"We shall have to make do," the Plainswoman shrugged.

Caramon came over, sniffing the air. "Is that all? Oatmeal?"

"Hehe, there'll be even less later - which is good for you, Caramon, I think I can see your belt straining!" Tas teased. Caramon chuckled good naturedly and pulled on the kender's topknot. Considering Caramon’s biceps were the size of his head, Raistlin felt Tas got off lightly.

Breakfast was dismal. Raistlin took a few spoonfuls, while Sturm outright refused his share, both losing their portions to Caramon who then looked to Flint's bowl, still hungry. "You gonna eat that?" The dwarf scowled and shifted his bowl away. Tasslehoff, seeing Caramon's wandering gaze, shovelled his food, almost choking himself.

"How are you feeling?" asked Tanis, coming over to the back of the cave where Raistlin was leaning on the wall. It seemed the half-elf was quite the mother hen...

"Better,” the mage said with a light sigh. He rubbed his eye again.

"Are you alright? Perhaps you should have Goldmoon look at your eye," Tanis suggested, offering his hands, once skinned and bloody from a slip during their escape, now healed. "Her staff appears to be legitimate, unless you can think of a spell that can replicate clerical healing?"

Raistlin frowned at the calloused hands. It was a minor healing, but proved a point nonetheless. He shook his head. "It's fine. An old injury, I doubt the staff could do anything. As for the validity of it..." he shrugged. "If she is a charlatan, she is a very good one."

"You dare call the Chieftain's Daughter a charlatan?!" Riverwind thundered, starting forward, Goldmoon's fur cloak clutched tightly in one hand.

Tanis half-rose to confront the Plainsman and Caramon was already halfway to interposing himself between his brother and the barbarian. The mage however, was completely unphased.

"I said _if_ , and if you would let me finish, I would like to add that yes, there are arcane healing magics, but I am willing to believe this staff is not such an artefact." He turned his gaze to Goldmoon. "May I examine it?"

The Plainsmen shared a glance. Riverwind seemed disinclined, but Goldmoon stood all the same, and held the staff out to Raistlin. Placing the Staff of Magius against the wall, Raistlin reached out slowly for the Goldmoon’s. As his fingers touched Goldmoon's staff, there was a bright flash of blue light and a crackle of energy. Raistlin jerked his arm back to his breast with a grunt of pain.

"Raist!" Caramon whirled on the confused woman shouting, "What did you do to him?"

Goldmoon stepped back shaking her head, "N-nothing."

"What kind of staff heals and injures at the same time?" Tanis wondered. Raistlin rubbed his hand, shaking his head. He could sense good from the staff, and a sentience much like his own staff.

"I think it depends on who the staff encounters. I’m not hurt,” he added to Caramon, “It just would prefer I didn’t touch it."

"Why not?" Flint looked at Raistlin suspiciously. “Even that doorknob kender can hold the staff.”

"What would you like me to say, dwarf?" Raistlin asked harshly. "I am a red robe. Do you want to hear that I am evil? I am not, I stand on the road of neutrality."

Flint glowered. "You're a mage, that's evil enough for me." Raistlin had heard the notion many times before, and could see Tanis, Riverwind and Sturm agreed with the dwarf's statement, even if they did not vocalise it.

"Flint, come on. Raist isn't evil-"

"How would you know? You said it yourself – you haven't seen him in years!"

Caramon looked to Raistlin pleadingly. The mage turned his head to ignore him.

Tanis waved his hand irritably, "Just leave him, Flint. We don't know him, but I trust Caramon enough to trust Raistlin for now. Besides, he took out a number of those goblins back on the lake."

It was rude, but it was as close to a compromise as they were going to get for the moment. Caramon didn't look happy about it and seemed even more disinclined to leave Raistlin alone than before, dropping down beside his smaller sibling and looking up darkly at Tanis, "So, which way are we going then?"

"Preferably before our yelling at each other attracts all the goblins in the area," Sturm added unhelpfully.

Tanis scratched his beard and seemed to speak his thoughts as they flitted through his mind, "Heredick's corrupt, using goblins to take power. We can't let him have the staff as that will just help him terrorise the masses, so that means the Seekers as a whole are probably out. He'll just manipulate them. I suppose we could try going to Haven... Tas, give me the map."

Raistlin bit his lip. He had very little intention of going to Haven, though, all said, he hadn't much thought on what to do after checking that Caramon was okay. Armies were gathering in the north, he, and almost every mage on the continent knew this, but getting people to band with them? Practically impossible. His gaze fell again to Goldmoon's staff... If he could get a cleric to do the leading, it might be possible to at least warn people it was worse than they were thinking.

Glancing at the map, Raistlin noticed the group bickering over routes, with some discussion circling about Qualinesti. "You could pass through Darken Wood. It leads right into Qualinesti." His tone had a mocking edge, mostly because he didn't expect them to take his suggestion. As it happened, from the rumours he'd heard about the forest, this group of misfits was probably the last collection of people he wanted to end up in said wood with anyway.

"Darken Wood is madness," Sturm snapped. "No one who has entered has ever returned."

"They say only the dead live there," Caramon added darkly.

This peaked Tas's interest. "Ooh, the dead? Tanis-"

"Enough!" Tanis said firmly, glaring at the kender, daring him to continue. Tas seemed to think better of it, surprising for a kender, and instead closed his mouth and huffed, looking to Flint for support. The dwarf frowned and shook his head.

Everyone seemed to fall silent while the half-elf scratched his beard in thought. Raistlin himself was beginning to lose interest just as Tanis came to his conclusion. "This staff is not ours, it is not our decision what is to be done with it or where we should go - it is Goldmoon's." Turning to the Plainswoman, he asked, "What is it _you_ wish to do, lady?"

Goldmoon scanned the group before sharing a long look with Riverwind, who huffed something in their language, clearly saddening Goldmoon. He went outside, to be alone or to scout, Raistlin assumed.

"He wants us to leave you and continue on our own. He thinks you are adding to our danger, that it would be safer alone," Goldmoon explained, and while it could simply be an expectation of such treatment, Raistlin could swear Goldmoon was looking at him when she said danger.

"Your danger?!" Flint thundered. "I nearly drowned because of that staff!"

Tanis held up a tired hand, "Enough, Flint." Scratching his beard, he looked to Goldmoon, "You would be safer with us. Travelling in smaller groups might help making the going quicker, but you won't be able to properly defend yourselves. Will you accept our help?"

Goldmoon nodded. "At least until we reach Haven."

"Good. Tas - you know the way here best, you shall be our guide. And remember," Tanis stressed, "we are _not_ on a picnic!"

Tas waved a dismissive hand, though looked oddly demure and thoughtful as he packed away his pouches, looking more like a miniature pack mule than a halfling. The others packed up as well, following the kender out, the dwarf moaning that it looked like rain again. Raistlin looked up at the dark clouds in the sky, before glancing north. They had bigger worries than the weather.

Caramon drifted back to Raistlin's side while Tanis and Riverwind spoke, or rather, Riverwind spoke _at_ Tanis before stalking off again.

"Raist, I'm glad you came back."

Raistlin shrugged, "It was time."

Caramon blinked at the ominous response, but when Raistlin looked back to the road, his lips a tight line, the big man seemed to content himself with simply being near Raistlin. He could, and probably would, try to question Raistlin again later.

* * *

Their journey through the thick woods was scenic at the very least. Huge vallenwood trees shielded the group from both the sun and the lurking storm, due to growing much closer together than they were able to in towns like Solace. Despite the seasons turning to autumn, greenery flourished, as did more unpleasant things, such as tangleshoot vines, a plant with an unhealthy habit of wrapping around one's leg, should you stand on it wrong. Ironically, these same plants were often harvested to be used as traps, Raistlin even had a couple of such roots in his pack.

It took over an hour for Caramon, Tanis and Sturm working in tandem to hack a path through the brush and reach the road to Haven, with Riverwind joining them some ten minutes later, his careful work to hide their tracks very impressive, if time consuming. By the end of it, they were all scratched, their clothing torn. Sturm looked livid though it may have just been that his arms were burning and they’d spent the last hour listening to Tasslehoff tell them a kender tale about Uncle Trapspringer and the dog-man of Northern Ergoth who changed form only when Lunitari was by herself in the sky.

The road was made up of tightly packed dirt, a welcome change to their previous terrain, however, Tanis held out an arm, signalling for halt. "There's no noise."

"Yes. It doesn't seem right to me either," agreed Riverwind. Raistlin thought they were being paranoid, but kept silent on the matter.

"Well, right or not, it's the only road to Haven," Caramon reasoned with a heavy sigh. "We'll get there next spring otherwise." Sadly the big man had a point. In the last hour, they had barely gone more than a few hundred yards.

"So, are we going or not?" Sturm shot, his moustaches seeming to twitch now and then as he fought to at least try and be polite.

"We should have someone scout-"

"Me, Tanis!" screeched Tas happily, starting for the road, only to be caught by the scruff and lifted up by Caramon.

"Hang fire - you don't even know what you're looking for."

"Neither do you, Caramon!" Tas accused.

"Just keep your hands to yourself, Tas," Tanis sighed, "And keep your wits about you. Stay on the road-"

"Don't be such a mother hen, Tanis, I'll be fine!" Tas angled his hoopak and struck Caramon in his unmentionables, causing the big man to simultaneously drop the kender and double over with a cry. "See?" With that, he darted away with a giggle before Caramon could wrap his hand around Tas's throat.

"If he doesn't come back with food, I'm going to strangle him," Caramon swore, still red faced and holding himself.

Raistin bit his lip, trying to smother a snicker. As dismal as he considered his day, that had been quite amusing. In the distance, the group could hear Tasslehoff singing. "I wonder if he has any idea what those lyrics actually mean?" Raistlin wondered to no one in particular.

"Gods I hope not. But then, he isn't as young as his appearance, so probably," replied Tanis, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"What do you mean, Raist?" Caramon blinked. Raistlin rolled his eyes.

Presumably as Tas hadn't come back, topknot aflame, Tanis considered it was okay to proceed, leading them onto the road, the irked Knight beside him. They kept close together, differences pushed aside for the moment, paranoia sinking in. The entire town guard was searching for them, and they couldn't see more than a few feet into the forest either side of the road, so thick was the foliage.

Every now and then, Tanis glanced at Raistlin, though the mage pretended not to notice. Caramon walked close to his twin's side, somewhere between overbearing guardian and spooked soldier.

"Where did you go, all those years back?" Caramon asked again softly. Considering he'd held his tongue for the best part of the morning, Raistlin felt patient enough to answer.

"To the Tower of High Sorcery, there to meet with the wizard Antimodes."

"Why?"

Raistlin glanced at Caramon from the corner of his eye. "Does it matter? It was years ago."

"It does to me!" Caramon's words were harsh, and loud enough for the others to stare. The group paused in the road, the two brothers glaring at each other for long moments. Tanis and Sturm started toward the two, though stopped when Raistlin clicked his tongue, breaking eye contact.

"I went to become a mage - what else was I going to do?"

"And what about us, Raist? We were eight. You could have died. I thought you _were_ dead!" Caramon's hand shot out, grasping Raistlin's shoulder tight enough to bruise. The big man looked livid, and around them, the Plainsmen and Sturm looked to either side of the road, fearing they had been heard.

Tanis came over, hissing, "Caramon, be quiet, we don't know what's out there!" The two shared a long look. Raistlin, in the lull of attention, wrapped thin fingers around Caramon's wrist, his grip tight enough to startle Carmon into releasing him. Wordlessly, the mage stalked to the front of the group. "Raist-!"

"Caramon, leave him," Tanis implored. He and Sturm shared a look, and though the knight didn't look overly happy, Sturm went to join Raistlin at the head of the group.

Tanis and Caramon spoke in low voices, while Sturm continued on, everyone else following suit.

"Not going to harass me also?" Raistlin asked after a moment.

"As long as whatever you're hiding doesn't get us killed, you are entitled to your secrets," Sturm replied tersely. Squinting, he pointed into the distance, "What's that?"

Following his finger, Raistlin frowned. "It's small... the kender?" A few seconds passed and the form got closer, proving Raistlin correct. Sturm nodded and turned to signal to Tanis, who had turned his attention to the Plainsmen.

"What's the matter?" Tanis asked, jogging up.

"Tas is back," Sturm replied simply, jerking his thumb at the fast approaching kender, who also seemed to be signalling.

"It’s a warning. Into the bushes!" Tanis said urgently. Everyone but Sturm followed, causing Tanis to double back and argue with the younger man.

"I see Sturm is no less stubborn," Raistlin commented drily.

Flint rolled his eyes, "He'd have been dead a hundred times over without Tanis persuading him when to let things lie." An exaggeration no doubt, but it only highlighted how single-minded Sturm could be.

Watching from their position in the brush, Tanis waved Tas over to the group, following behind, leaving the knight out in the open, appearing to rest against a tree.

"What's happening?" Caramon enquired as Tanis dropped down next to him. The big man shuffled to make space for Tanis and Raistlin cringed at the clanking of his weapons, shifting much more quietly than his brother to ensure he was concealed by a thick portion of bush.

“Clerics,” Tanis informed softly, “Sturm is going to question them.” Raistlin had to bite down a laugh over the poor way Tanis hid the loss of his argument with Sturm earlier. It appeared the knight was a loose cannon within the group, for however much respect he seemed to have for Tanis, their de facto leader.

Shifting to Tas, Raistlin nudged him. “What do the clerics look like?” he whispered.

“Hmm?” the kender blinked and put a finger to his chin. “Well. They look really odd for clerics,” he started, “They’re really tall, and wear long robes with big hoods – I couldn’t see any of their faces! – and their feet and hands are bound up in bandages. Oh, do you think they can’t afford shoes?”

Tas kept up a quiet ramble about various reasons the clerics were dressed like walking corpses, but Raistlin had stopped listening. He stiffened, eyes blow wide. Clerics wrapped in bandages… the wizards had been getting reports of that for weeks. They came down from the north in search of something. Probably this stupid blue staff. Speaking of… where was Goldmoon?

Raistlin looked to where he had sworn Goldmoon knelt beside Riverwind only to see neither Plainsmen there. He looked around and spotted them on the road speaking with several clerics surrounding a cart. Caramon stood up to go join Goldmoon and Riverwind on the road. Swearing, Raistlin narrowly succeeded in preventing the kender from following. He didn’t like how the clerics seemed to know more than they let on, looking to each other almost conspiratorially. They needed to hide their numbers.

“Stay here you three,” Tanis ordered, which at least calmed Tas down as Flint grabbed a hand on the kender’s topknot, growling “Doorknob!” before the half-elf hurried out after Caramon like an over protective parent. Only… he didn’t. Raistlin watched curiously as Tanis shifted down the road, further than where the group had exited the brush and drew his bow. At least someone had their wits about them, Raistlin thought grimly, redirecting his attention back to the road.

“I am the owner of the blue crystal staff.” Raistlin groaned as Goldmoon made her position known. Really now, did everyone have to be so damn honest all the time? They might as well carry slips of paper with all their details on or items they possessed while spilling their life stories to every stranger they came across.

As the males flocked around Goldmoon like bodyguards, Raistlin noted the clerics didn’t even act phased, but made soft, hissing discussion he could hardly hear, gesturing for Goldmoon to heal their injured brother in the cart they pulled. “Please, we would be grateful if you could help our ill brother, and then return with us to Haven, so we might prove the staff belongs to another.”

Right, so that meant Haven was out as an end destination. Raistlin doubted anything the clerics had to offer would be good, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to try convince the group of that as Goldmoon clambered up into the cart.

In a flash of blue, their tenuous peace went to shit. Goldmoon jumped back out of the cart and Riverwind sprang up to meet the not-so-injured cleric pursuing her. It wasn’t even human and Raistlin felt bile rise in his throat as leathery wings he had only ever seen in dreams now spread from the fake cleric’s back. The creature flexed its clawed fingers and stood tall on two legs, its tail poking out of the base of its robes, which it tore away with dexterity Raistlin had not predicted to reveal strange armour that was clearly tailored over stolen, allowing for its wings to bat freely and tail smacked the ground angrily.

“By Reorx… is it a man or beast?” Flint exclaimed in a shocked whisper. “Face almost looks human, if not for the eyes and nose.”

“It isn’t alone,” said Raistlin, swallowing thickly. “The other clerics are the same.” And apparently he wasn’t the only one who had seen the creatures before somehow, for Riverwind was trembling, sword arm limp at his side.

“We need to help them,” Flint decided rising to his feet as Caramon punched a cleric in the face, removing Goldmoon from its clutches before she struck another in the face with her staff, causing another burst of light.

Raistlin looked around, wondering why Tanis wasn’t shooting into the fray, only to not find him where Raistlin had last seen him. “Go,” he hissed to the dwarf and kender, already creeping off to see what was keeping Tanis as a horn sounded loudly from the site of battle.

Another of the lizardmen was upon Tanis, choking him, which explained why he had not joined the companions in fighting. The half-elf’s arms were struggling fruitlessly with the lizardman, getting weaker by the second. Hurrying over, Raistlin aimed and swung the faceted crystal of his staff into the lizardman with all his might, sending it crumpling to the ground, dead.

Tanis coughed, struggling to his knees and trying desperately to get air into his body. “What-what the fuck are those?!” he spluttered, watching morbidly as the creature stiffened in death, Raistlin watching alongside him as it turned to stone.

“They call themselves draconians. We must leave Tanis. Call your friends before reinforcements arrive,” the mage commanded, holding his staff tightly and looking wane. More of them were coming, the horn alerting more of the beasts in a camp a half mile off.

“If we can get that far,” Tanis spluttered, staggering to his feet. Drawing his sword, the half-elf ran forward and Raistlin let out a reluctant whimper before following, mostly because he needed to get closer in order to better aim a spell at a draconian, lest he accidentally hit Caramon.

“Raist!” his brother called as red robes came into view, replacing a snarling lizardman that had been about to cut him down with a hatchet.

Raistlin barely avoided a blow from behind, stumbling and catching himself on the cart. “Don’t stab them!” he called to Caramon in warning. “They turn to stone when they die!”

Dropping his sword and dagger, Caramon went after the dragonmen with his fists, a colossally stupid idea in Raistlin’s opinion; though it seemed to work for the big man as two more fell to the ground. The mage quietly decided to be wary of Caramon’s strength. The fact his brother could kill with a single punch was more than a little terrifying.

“Are you alright, Raist?” Caramon asked, suddenly at his elbow.

Raistlin waved him off. “Fine. I’m fine. Sturm might need a hand though,” he said, catching sight of the knight as he fell under a dragonman turned statue, three more rising up against him. Caramon swore and ran to his friend.

Caramon left and Goldmoon replaced him, smacking hard enough into the cart that Raistlin reached out to make sure she didn’t fall. Two dragonmen stood, snarling at them, one with a burnt hand, clearly having tried to grab the staff. “Don’t get in front of me,” Raistlin hissed, taking half a step forward and fanning his fingers out before him, thumbs touching. “ _Kair tangus miopiar_.” The magic burned pleasantly in his veins as fire burst forth from his fingertips, engulfing the two enemies while Goldmoon looked on in shock.

“You can make fire too?” she balked as Raistlin flopped against the side of the cart, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“… Clearly.” Gritting his teeth Raistlin pushed off of the cart. “Come on, let’s get off this blasted road.”

“I’m not a coward,” Goldmoon accused, and turned to survey the scene, knowing there were still enemies to fight and rushed to Riverwind’s side, shooting Raistlin a dirty look as she passed. She fended off draconians with her staff, and Tanis soon joined them.

“And I’m no hero…” Raistlin said quietly, turning away and heading back to the brush, easily finding Flint, Tasslehoff and Sturm, the latter of whom was bleeding profusely from a head wound and mumbling about his sword.

Tasslehoff looked around and then pointed, “Oh, I see it! I’ll just go get it!”

The kender disappeared and Flint spoke up, “The cart’s on fire.”

“Good, it’ll provide cover for the others,” Raistlin mumbled, dropping down beside Sturm to take stock of the wound.

“I can’t see. How did the fire start?” Sturm complained, wiping at his eyes.

Sighing, Raistlin pulled out a clean handkerchief of his own and took over putting pressure on the wound. “Me. Possibly,” he admitted, pulling Sturm’s head into his lap. “I used a fire spell, the flames must have caught the wood.”

“It’s smoking,” noted Flint. Raistlin blushed and tried to wipe some of the blood out of Sturm’s eyes, coughing a little as the smoke increased in volume.

“We should move away,” Sturm said, though made no move to stand. Probably too dizzy. The bushes rustled behind them and Flint stood, drawing his axe threateningly only to lower it a moment later.

“Where’s Tas? There’s more of those things coming from both ways up the road!” Tanis exclaimed coughing, Caramon and the Plainsmen appearing from the smoke behind him.

“Flying. Yes I noticed,” Raistlin said dispassionately.

“How could you know that?” demanded Riverwind. “They must be half a mile off.”

“Less. Flying creatures move faster than ones on land. And I used my eyeballs.”

Riverwind growled, but before he could say anything, Tanis took charge. “Enough. We go south. But first we need Tas, Caramon-”

“He’s there, Tanis,” the big man pointed. Tas was dragging Sturm’s sword along behind him, clearly struggling, but happy.

Tanis blinked. “Wasn’t that sword… Actually, I don’t want to know, now’s not the time. We need to get out of here. Come on. Caramon, help Sturm.”

“Oh Flint!” Tas cried, making a beeline for the dwarf, “The lizard man turned to dust when I was pulling on Sturm’s sword! I pulled a few times and nothing happened-“

“Tas, can it,” Caramon growled, taking the sword and sheathing it for Sturm before helping the man stand.

Amidst the chaos, Raistlin stood shakily, holding his robe sleeve to his mouth as he coughed, hoping to stop any more of the smoke getting into his lungs. “South is… Darken Wood,” he said weakly.

“There’s a game trail that skirts the wood, we can use it and only go in the wood if we have to,” Tanis explained, putting an arm around Raistlin. “Then head up to Prayer’s Eye Peak and survey the land.”

The mage, too busy trying not to hack up a lung, didn’t fight as Tanis steered him on. “Sturm’s wound won’t clot. The staff?” He doubled over as coughing overwhelmed him.

“I think Goldmoon’s already on it. Come on, let’s start moving away. It’ll only take them a moment,” Tanis said, his grip on Raistlin a little firmer.

Lungs burning, Raistlin allowed himself to be dragged off, thankful the air began to clear. The others caught up and they hurried pace, travelling for an hour before daring to pause.

“They aren’t chasing us,” Flint noted.

“No… they probably have us surrounded,” Tanis said. “But they don’t know the land, so we _should_ be able to sneak by.”

Raistlin wasn’t so sure, but didn’t comment.

“They’re going to force us into Darken Wood if we aren’t careful,” Caramon noted.

“No point rushing into the arms of the enemy then, we should rest,” Raistlin suggested, “Catch our breath and regroup our strength.” He only had a few spells a day, any rest he could get was vital.

No one argued, bar glancing at Tanis for his agreement before sinking down. Sturm looked positively grey by this point, Goldmoon quickly going over to check on him while Raistlin slipped down onto a rock of his own, stomach churning and eye throbbing horribly.

He put a hand to it as Caramon slipped down beside him. “Are you alright, Raist?”

“Is that all you know how to ask?” Raistlin snapped his voice hoarse. He coughed harshly in an attempt to clear it. “I’m fine. Stop fretting.”

Caramon, undeterred, pressed on. “I saw Tanis helping you walk, you’re not fine.”

“I breathed in some smoke. It’ll pass, Caramon. Calm, down.” His chest rattled as he tried to hold a cough back to make his point to Caramon.

“What about your eye? I’ve seen you rubbing at it all day.”

“Caramon, I am not a child, enough!” Raistlin hissed, getting up and stalking away. Luckily, at that moment, Tanis called Caramon over. The big man didn’t look pleased but relented, disappearing off to see the half-elf.

“Do you need to be so hard on him?” Sturm wondered from where he at first glance looked to awkwardly be making love to a rock. Joining the knight, Raistlin returned the earlier favour and helped Sturm find his way to the ground without breaking something. His horned helm was currently being worn by Tas, arguably a fairly safe location for the moment.

“Does he need to treat me like a baby?” Raistlin returned, sitting on the rock Sturm leant against. “I’ve managed seventeen years without him, as he’s managed without me.”

“The fundamental difference being you knew he was alive and he thought you dead.”

Raistlin frowned down at him. “I’m not going to keep apologising.” The mage’s frown deepened as he surveyed the ugly gash on Sturm’s head. “I thought Goldmoon healed that with her staff?” Following Raistlin’s finger, Sturm raised tentative fingers to the wound, wincing as he prodded the tender skin. His fingers came back bloody and Raistlin could see the wound starting to ooze. “She must have used too much of the staff’s power. Let me bandage it for you.”

“Now who’s babying?” Sturm challenged.

Raistlin shot back, hand in his pack, “My wounds aren’t in danger of infection.” He removed a jar of salve and a roll of bandages from his pack, flipping the top flap shut. Pausing a moment, Raistlin coughed into his elbow, then pressed the jar into Sturm’s hands so the mage had a hand free to take a swig from his water skin to clear his throat.

“What’s in the jar?” Sturm asked, looking at it as though it might explode.

“A mix of herbs and water. They’ll keep the wound clean while it heals.” Tipping his water skin onto his hands to clean them, Raistlin indicated for Sturm to open the jar for him. He carefully applied it to Sturm’s wound, the knight wincing all the same, though he looked a little less pale by the time Raistlin had bandaged Sturm’s head.

“Where did you learn to make such a thing?” said Sturm, sniffing the jar uncertainly before putting the lid back on.

“When I worked in the Baron of Langtree’s army.”

“You were a soldier?”

“No, I was hoping to be a war mage,” Raistlin explained, taking the jar back and stuffing it in his pack. “But generally soldiers do not wish to fight beside a mage, so I ended up in the healing tent often. A lot of what I learned was straight forward.”

“Is that where you hurt your eye?”

Raistlin stilled, looking Sturm over while chewing his words. “It’s not hurt, but the sight is afflicted,” he said carefully. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain it another time.”

* * *

When Tanis called them to move again, Raistlin found himself beside the half-elf, his brother toward the front with Riverwind and Goldmoon and Sturm performing ‘rear guard’, his helm not yet reclaimed from Tas.

“I’m being punished,” Raistlin muttered under his breath, watching Tanis from the corner of his eye.

“Pardon?” asked Tanis innocently.

“I said thank you for putting Caramon up front.”

Tanis gave a heavy sigh, “Can’t you see it from his point of view? You came to Solace to meet with him, the least you can do is be a little nicer.”

Raistlin shot him a withering look. “All he remembers of me is the weak little brother who spent most days in bed, yet I haven’t given him reason to think I can’t handle myself. He’s asked once about my past.”

“Yes and you cut him off,” Tanis replied harshly. “He wants to get to know you again. Put aside your ire and contempt. Of course he won’t know the correct questions to ask. It’s been almost twenty years. You have to be willing to give if you also want your brother back.” Raistlin turned from him, a sneer on his lips. Changing tact, Tanis asked softer, “Why didn’t the mages inform Caramon you were not dead? Surely there was contact between your school and Solace about fees or attendance or something?”

“Caramon mentioned I went to mage school?” Raistlin guessed. Tanis nodded. “My headmaster hated me. And as it happened, it never occurred to me to run there for help. I went to the Tower of High Sorcery in Waywreth.”

Tanis’s eyebrows furrowed. “How? I thought there was an impenetrable forest surrounding the tower? I’ve heard rumour it kills those who are not summoned.”

Raistlin shrugged, “I don’t know. What you say about the grove around the Tower is true. But I entered the forest of Waywreth Tower and found myself able to reach the Tower itself.” It had caused quite the stir within the mage ranks and landed him in hot water even before he’d joined the Conclave.

“You don’t remember?”

“I was quite delirious,” Raistlin answered. “Fear, dehydration, I’d not brought much food either.” He’d also gotten to see someone throw themselves from the tower and had promptly thrown up in response. Rather violently according to the mage who had escorted him to the Conclave for interrogation.

Tanis opened his mouth to speak, but a shout from the rear drew everyone’s attention.

“Stop!”

“Sturm, what is it?” Tanis ran over to the knight, who was looking off towards the south. There didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary, but the knight’s gaze was fixed on something. He started for the brush, not drawing his sword, Tanis quickly giving chase and catching the man by the arm. “Sturm, what do you see?”

“The white stag! The white stag that guided Huma!” Sturm pulled on Tanis’s hold insisting, “We need to follow it, let me go!”

Flint glared at Raistlin. “What did you do to him?”

“Whatever’s afflicting him isn’t my doing,” Raistlin insisted. Knowing the dwarf wouldn’t believe him, he added, “Let Goldmoon take another look at him.”

Sturm tried to pull away again, “Please, Tanis. It’s calling us. Like Huma,” He implored, turning to Tanis and presumably trying to look sane. Evidently, he was failing as not one of the companions spoke up for him.

“I don’t see a stag of any colour,” Riverwind grumbled.

“More’s the pity,” Caramon sighed. “I wouldn’t mind venison for dinner.”

“We’re not eating a holy apparition!” Sturm shot. Caramon’s hands shot up placatingly.

Raistlin turned to Goldmoon. “I cannot sense anything, can you?”

She shook her head. “But that does not necessarily make him wrong. My people thought Riverwind of unsound mind when he told them of the dragonmen. He was right about their existence.”

Tanis looked between his companions and sighed. “I’m not sure it’s the same…”

Raistlin froze as images came to him. Draconians, closing in on them in a pincer movement. There wasn’t time to be arguing, and as it happened, Sturm’s stag was supposedly standing in the same direction that the draconians were not. Stepping forward, Raistlin made his way to Tanis and rapped his hand with the crystal of his staff. Tanis released Sturm and in the same breath, Raistlin shoved the knight towards the stag’s direction. “Go on, I believe you.” He didn’t but chasing a phantom was better than being trapped by dragonmen. Blessedly, Sturm didn’t think twice and took off after the stag, Raistlin hiking up his robes to follow behind. As the mage expected, Caramon tore after them, leading to Tasslehoff following with a giggle, hand on Sturm’s helmet. Flint followed Tas and after a moment, Tanis and the Plainsmen picked up the rear.

Raistlin hated running. It was easily his least favourite activity second only to being on bed rest. Brambles sliced at his legs, overgrown nettles scratched into his hands, he outright tripped over a raised tree root, barely catching himself and feeling more than hearing his leg make an ugly crack around the knee area, the resulting tingling up his leg making every other step highly unpleasant.

Sturm navigated ahead of them with erratic changes in direction that did, at least in Raistlin’s opinion, give the suggestion Sturm was racing after a bounding stag. He wasn’t sure of their path at first, but from the screaming of his calf muscles, Raistlin worked out they were going uphill. At some point, Tanis overtook him and managed to grab Sturm again to pull him to a halt.

“Sturm…” the half-elf gasped, heaving for breath. “We… need to stop…”

Sturm turned to him, eyes wide and gleaming. Raistlin frowned and made a mental note to double check the healing salve hadn’t gone off. Sturm’s pupils were so large the brown of his eyes could not be seen. It was possible he was allergic to one of the ingredients, but Raistlin couldn’t remember such a violent reaction to what should be a simple antiseptic.

“But, the stag-!”

“Please tell me the stag has stopped,” Flint groaned, collapsing to the ground, visibly sweating. Tas stopped just behind him and rubbed the dwarf’s back gently. The kender himself looked fine and hardly out of breath. Then again, kender probably spent a large amount of their day running from the people they had stolen from.

“Where are we?” Raistlin asked, leaning on his staff, slumping as much as he could without toppling over.

“Prayer’s Eye Peak,” Caramon replied, pointing. “You can see the hands there.” Following his brother’s finger, Raistlin could indeed see the two shards of stone jutting up on the hill.

“You!” Raistlin let out a yelp as Tanis grabbed the front of his robes and yanked the mage towards him. Caramon raised a hand and called the half-elf’s name, but Tanis ignored him. “Why did you do that? We could have lost Sturm down a ravine! It’ll take us forever to find our way back!” he growled, rattling Raistlin. “And you had better fix whatever it is you did to Sturm before then!” He dropped Raistlin, the mage stumbling back and slipping on wet leaves to land on the ground. “I’m going to scout ahead, everyone, _stay here_ ,” the half-elf said emphatically, spinning on his heel and stalking away.

Riverwind jogged after Tanis while Caramon came over to crouch beside Raistlin. “Raist!”

“I’m fine, I tripped.” Raistlin waved his hand. “Is Sturm still with us?”

Caramon looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, he’s stroking his moustaches and kicking leaves. What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, but he wasn’t wrong about going off the picnic trail,” Raistlin replied, unshouldering his pack and checking the jar of salve.

“Should… you be licking that?” Caramon asked, his voice rising a little.

Raistlin hummed, sucking on his salve-coated finger. “Probably not, but it won’t kill me.” It tasted horrible, but not in the way that suggested any of the ingredients in it were stale. “It’s also not what’s caused Sturm’s stag.”

“So… what did?” Caramon wondered, “Goldmoon’s staff?”

Raistlin shrugged. He took a moment to weigh up resting over checking on Sturm and reluctantly stood. Caramon would probably defend him from Tanis, but it wasn’t a thing he should rely on. It would be easier if they listened to Raistlin based on his own merits, not Caramon’s.

“You don’t believe me do you?” Sturm said as Raistlin approached, followed by Caramon.

“No, but then I’ve seen things and not been believed either,” Raistlin shrugged. “It’s not a judgement against you.”

Sturm looked off to the side, some way off into the distance. “Then why?”

“There were draconians on the road!”

The three turned to see Tanis and Riverwind running back towards them. “You knew, didn’t you?” he said to Raistlin and Sturm, “How?”

Sturm shook his head, looking mildly lost before his gaze went back to that same spot he had been staring at before.

Raistlin sighed. “My mother was a Seer,” he relented. “Sometimes I see things too. I saw draconians on the road and Sturm was wanting to go the only safe way. So I took the decision out of everyone’s hands.”

Tanis shot him a withering look. “You should have said that first.”

“Ooh, a Seer!” Tas exclaimed. “That reminds me of a Seer my Uncle Trapspringer once-.” But no one was listening to Tas, because Caramon had interrupted, “Mother saw far away places though. You told me yourself. That she said saw places far away. Places she would rather be. And she’d get stuck.”

Raistlin nodded. “Because she didn’t want to leave. And even the times when she did, Mother didn’t know how. I do. And because I have a better control over the gift, I’m able to see things of more relevance.”

“Like how you knew there were more dragonmen flying to our location on the road,” Riverwind said.

“That’s right. It doesn’t last long though,” Raistlin acknowledged. There was more to it, but Raistlin was aware he was on thin ice in terms of believability. Non-mages, and even some mages, just couldn’t fathom the idea of seeing things that weren’t physically in front of them.

“Poppycock,” insisted Flint. “I’ll bet Raistlin enchanted Sturm to see the stag and he’s got us gallivanting off where he wants to go.”

Caramon looked hurt by the insinuation, whereas Raistlin found he couldn’t even be bothered to feel offended. Sturm pointed to the south. “The stag is moving again.”

Raistlin held up his hands as Tanis, Flint and Riverwind looked at him suspiciously. “It’s not me. I’ve better things to waste my magic on than making Sturm think he’s Huma, or whatever is going on.”

Caramon gently nudged Raistlin, “Are the draconians coming this way?”

“I don’t know,” Raistlin answered honestly. “And I’d rather not find out by staying here. You saw them,” he added to Tanis. “Which direction were they coming?”

“West and East,” Tanis sighed. “And north was covered in dark clouds. They seemed unnatural.”

Riverwind nodded, “The clouds looked like campfires to me.”

“Then that leaves south, where the stag wishes us to go,” Sturm pointed out, already leading the way. Tanis sighed and gestured everyone to get up as Sturm was obviously not willing to wait any longer and they couldn’t go anywhere else for the time being.

“We can’t keep going south forever,” Caramon said, eyebrows in a heavy frown. “Darken Wood is that way, not to mention there’s only so much south someone can do before we need another boat.”

“No more boats!” Flint yelled emphatically.

* * *

Blessedly Sturm’s pace was slightly more manageable during this leg of the journey, leading them up through Prayer’s Eye Peak and then downhill again. The ground underfoot was unstable and they had to tread carefully, Tanis holding onto the dwarf to help him balance.

“You alright there, Raist?” Caramon asked. The big man had taken Sturm’s helmet from Tas as the kender hadn’t been able to hold it and keep a hand out to stop him tripping. Behind them, Goldmoon and Riverwind were helping each other navigate the steep decline.

Raistlin grunted, eyes on the ground. “It’s warm,” he noted, something Flint had complained about loudly, though Sturm in his heavy armours seemed unbothered by.

“Yeah, it’ll probably be fine once we’re back in the trees, the one’s down there look nice,” Caramon noted, pointing to the forest at the bottom of the valley. It didn’t look the least bit inviting to Raistlin however. There was some kind of ominous fog over the trees that darkened the green of the leaves to an unhealthy degree. He didn’t have opportunity to remark on it though as his staff lost purchase on the rock Raistlin had hooked it behind to help his descent and consequently pitched forward, only to be grabbed and pulled back by Caramon. “Close one.”

“Mhmm,” Raistlin swallowed thickly, finding his balance again. “Thank you,” he said softly. “You can let go now, Caramon.”

Caramon looked at where his hand held Raistlin’s bicep for a long moment before loosening his grip. “Are you sure? You might fall again.”

“I might, but then, it’s possible you could fall too,” Raistlin pointed out.

Caramon was quiet for a moment in thought. “I could hold your staff if that would make it easier?” he offered, looking between it and the long red robes Raistlin was admittedly having difficulty holding up away from his ankles so he could safely put one foot in front of the other.

The mage shook his head. “The staff is magic, and picky about who holds it.” Though Raistlin did have half a mind to leave it behind and summon it once he’d reached the valley below. The staff thrummed hotly in his hand as if in disagreement.

“It is? How strange,” Caramon said, turning back to the task of getting down. “How’d you come to have a magic staff?”

“When a wizard completes his Test at the Tower, they are given a magic item,” Raistlin explained. “We’re taken to a room by the one who recommended us for the Test. The room generates the magic item based on the Conclave’s thoughts on our Test and the elder wizard is there to explain the item. Only this staff was in the room and my Master, Antimodes didn’t understand it. Apparently it has a mind of its own and appeared of its own accord. I was actually supposed to receive a crystal ball to help my Sight.”

“Both sound pretty terrible to me,” Caramon said with a curled lip.

“I’m perfectly happy with the staff. Antimodes claims it’s the same one wielded by Magius, the wizard who fought alongside Huma,” Raistlin said with a smile. It along with the dagger hidden in his sleeve were the most valuable things he owned. As important as his spellbook and other belongings were, they were replaceable. The Staff of Magius was not. His dagger was his last line of defence and something he’d invested time into mastering should he ever be caught off-guard and unable to get a spell off in time.

When the twins and Plainsmen made it to the valley’s bottom, they met up with the rest of the companions. Sturm had, again, been forced to a halt and looked incredibly annoyed about it, pacing as he waited for Tas and Tanis who were consulting a map on the ground.

“I think this is Darken Wood,” Tanis explained, pointing to the forest.

“It doesn’t _look_ dark though,” Tas defended the wood.

“And it’s where the stag is leading us,” Sturm added, “It’s already in there, if we don’t hurry we’ll lose sight of it.”

“I still think this is the mage’s doing,” Flint insisted, glaring up at him while Caramon gave Sturm his helm back.

“If it was my doing, I wouldn’t be going into that forest,” Raistlin returned, lip curling as he looked at the trees. “It looks awfully unwelcoming to me.”

“It does?” Caramon looked between his brother and the forest. “I don’t see why. It looks like a normal forest.”

“Isn’t Darken Wood supposedly haunted?” Tas put in. “Ooh, Flint, do you think we’ll see a ghost? I’ve always wanted to see a ghost!”

“I don’t want to see any ghosts!” the dwarf shot back hotly.

Tanis sighed. “No one who doesn’t want to go has to. But Sturm wants to go and so does Tas, so I’ll go with them.”

“It’s not exactly a choice when we have to pick between the forest with rumours of death and spectres or wait for the draconians to catch up,” Raistlin pointed out. “I’ve dealt with one horrifying forest in my time, one can only hope they are all secretly the same.”

“I hope they’re not,” Tas said. “It would be frightfully dull if all haunted forests were the same. Which spooky forest did you last enter, Raistlin?”

“The one around Waywreth’s Tower of High Sorcery. It constantly rearranges itself to keep people lost within it.”

“Oh! That does sound fun! I hope Darken Wood lets us through so we can go there next!”

Caramon looked towards the setting sun and frowned, his stomach growling. “We missed lunch and dinner isn’t looking promising. Maybe there’s something to eat in the woods?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Raistlin commented. “You shouldn’t eat the food of the dead, they tend to get quite offended. I’ve an apple in my pack I think,” he added as an afterthought, remembering Sturm’s suggestion about being a little nicer to Caramon.

Caramon thought on it a long moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s okay, Raist. I had a big breakfast and you didn’t have anything really,” he said meekly.

“Reluctantly, I agree with the mage,” Riverwind spoke up, his tone harsh, though that just seemed to be the way he spoke Common. He sounded much softer in his mother-tongue. “We Plainsmen have similar beliefs about eating food meant for the dead. The rule applies to haunted forests. If we wish to break bread, we should eat outside the forest, or else make quick progress so that we can make camp on the other side.” _Finally, a man with sense_ , thought Raistlin.

“There isn’t much light left, but Sturm has a point, we should make good time if the stag shows us the way,” Tanis decided. “Let’s go and we’ll camp at the other side.”

Sturm moved to show the stag’s exact point of entry. As they made their approach, Raistlin could sense traces of magic. Magic that was clearly not a threat to the other companions who chatted amicably, but didn’t seem to want him specifically in the wood. He muttered a quick prayer to Lunitari, asking her to watch over him, keeping his head bowed as the group travelled through the trees, finding themselves on a path that Raistlin felt very strongly about staying on lest he upset the forest.

The forest to him was dark as twilight. Whispers came from every corner, asking who dares come? For what purpose? Were these foes?

Around him, the companions relaxed while Raistlin’s heart thumped loud and hard in his chest. He didn’t want to be here. Behind him, Caramon laughed heartily at some joke or other the kender was spouting, the loud sound scaring Raistlin half to death. Rubbing his face tiredly he hoped it was just his low magical reserves and not Darken Wood blocking his Sight. He couldn’t figure out their position within the wood or if anyone had followed them, and as the dark whispers around him grew louder, decided to give up on trying, lest he attract more unwanted attention.

“Raist, you’re shivering,” Caramon noted sometime later.

“It’s cold, at least to me,” he responded tightly, not one to admit he was at least in part, shivering with fear.

“I suppose it is getting a little chill. And close to night time,” Caramon mused. “I’m not hungry anymore at least.”

“You sound happy about that,” Raistlin noted, only entertaining the conversation so he could think about something other than the whispering voices from the trees.

“Well, better that than being sad about missed meals,” Caramon hummed. “So, how long have you been a wizard?”

That was an oddly phrased question. “I learned magic while travelling with Antimodes, though he sometimes left me in towns while he did business. So I guess I’ve been doing magic for many years but I only took my Test five years ago.”

“And how long have you worn red?” Caramon asked a little more tentatively.

Realising the implications of wearing the white robes of good as a child and coming to him in adulthood with red robes of neutrality was tantamount to announcing he’d gotten more evil as he’d grown up, Raistlin sighed and thought on the best way to answer that wouldn’t dissolve into an argument. “Since my Test. The way I performed there pleased Lunitari, the goddess of neutral magic. In her honour, I wear her colour. Solinari, the god of good magic, was too stuffy for my liking, so I’m happy Lunitari likes me,” he added with a slight smile, looking sideways at Caramon, though he kept his head bowed.

Caramon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Is that so? Do you get to read a little bit about them or something?”

Raistlin shook his head. “The old gods are said to be the stars above us. The gods of magic are found in the moons. Old tales have it that because the moons are closer to us than the stars, the gods of magic didn’t leave us at the Cataclysm. Many more wizards than regular men claim to have met the gods of magic. I knew a man who swore blind he would spend nights drinking with Lunitari.”

Caramon’s eyes widened. “I don’t think any god has time to be wasting on getting blathered. Isn’t that like… a mortal thing?”

Chuckling, Raistlin nodded. “I thought the same. But he was adamant and he was in charge of whether I got paid at the end of the week, so after the first comment, I kept my thoughts to myself.”

As they continued along the path the cold became more noticeable as night set in and Raistlin noticed their pace slowing. Understandable, they hadn’t exactly stopped for long and had been walking, if not running, most of the day. His stomach made an angry motion in his gut, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much all day. He shuddered and miss-stepped tripping and bumping into Sturm, who stopped, his bulk bracing them both from tumbling to the ground.

When the knight turned around to look at him, Raistlin noted despite his earlier elation, Sturm looked even paler than he had when Raistlin looked at his head wound.

“Let’s stop and rest for the night, we’ll continue at first light.” Tanis pointed to a point just off the path where murky water pooled against the banks of weathered rocks in a stagnant brook. The grass looked dead, trees reaching down with long, tendril like branches to encase the glade. Raistlin felt he would rather pass out where he stood, but the others clearly weren’t seeing the same landscape he was, for they strayed from the path with smiles and comments of getting a good rest. They were not frightened of the forest as he was.

“Are you not coming, Raist?” Caramon asked, turning back halfway to the murky pool. “Sturm?” he added, noticing the knight hadn’t joined them either.

“I don’t think we should lead the path, I’d rather keep walking,” Raistlin tried.

Tanis frowned, “That path isn’t going anywhere. It’s ten feet away and we can see it clearly.”

Beside him, Sturm sighed. “The stag has gone. Either we’re where we are meant to be or it too is encouraging rest.” The knight made his way towards his companions, leaving Raistlin alone on the path, which remained visible to him, even if the forest didn’t want him there. He slipped to the floor where he was, lips pursed and put a hand over his hammering heart. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Why had he left Horkin and the Baron’s soldiers? Caramon was obviously fine with his friends, he should have stayed away. Maybe gone to Kit instead.

The sound of slow steps approaching him had Raistlin jerking his head up, only to find Sturm looking down at him. The knight knelt to crouch before him, armour clanking, expression tight. “Why don’t you come to the glade?” he asked barely above a whisper. Behind him, Raistlin could just make out the others talking in the glade, but he was too tired to focus on the words.

He considered ignoring Sturm at first, but then the words soon slipped from his lips. “I don’t think the forest wants me here.” He was careful to make sure his words didn’t carry, lest Caramon come marching back and drag him over, calling him a fool.

“Why do you think that?”

“As you see a stag and we see empty space, I look around here and see death and chill, while the rest of you see… something else. That glade looks like something out of nightmares, not a comforting place for a camp.” From the enclosure of trees, Riverwind could be heard intoning that the wood they had collected was wet. “Good, I don’t think they should be setting fire to this place,” Raistlin grumbled, clenching the wood of his staff tighter.

“We’ll need light at some point,” Sturm reasoned. “Or at least I will. This head wound is deep, so I shouldn’t sleep with it. I knew a man who didn’t wake up when he went to sleep with a cut like this,” he said, jerking a finger at the bandages.

Sighing, Raistlin shifted to raise his staff, pushing it into the ground so he didn’t have to hold it. “ _Shirak_.” The crystal at the top glowed warmly even as Raistlin took his hand away. “There, light.”

Sturm cringed. “That looks terrible. Like the darkness is cloaking around it, rather than the light warding darkness off.”

Raistlin looked to the staff and hummed thoughtfully. “It’s enough to work by, if you want me to rewrap your head. The bandage is red,” he added. Not necessarily a mark of Sturm bleeding through it, but a slight concern all the same.

Sturm shook his head, cringing at the movement. “It’s fine, I think between you and Goldmoon it’s healing,” he said, putting a hand to the bandage. “Do you mind if I sit… a moment?” Sturm drifted off, falling forward into Raistlin, eyes rolling back in his head.

Catching the knight and smothering a grunt as best he could, Raistlin pushed on the ancient breast plate to find Sturm breathing harshly through his nose, eyes closed. “Are you still awake? Sturm?” he asked, an edge of urgency to the tone as he tapped Sturm’s cheek gently. Sturm groaned. Taking the knight’s hand, Raistlin gave it a squeeze, “Sturm, you need to stay awake. Can you talk to me?”

“Do I have to?” Sturm grumbled after a moment, his fingers twitched in Raistlin’s tight hold. “Words hurt my brain.”

“Hold my hand tight then. It takes a conscious mind to form a tight grip.” Sturm huffed a breath but did as asked, gripping Raistlin with enough strength to bruise. Tanis drifted over.

“Is Sturm okay?”

“His wound. Combined with little rest and sustenance, it’s not a good combination,” Raistlin shrugged one shoulder. Stuck below the knight as the weight of Sturm and his armour combined was too heavy, Raistlin resigned himself to also staying awake for the foreseeable future. Tanis crouched to examine Sturm, while a shift in the air caught Raistlin’s attention. Something was approaching.

“’M fine, Tanis. I just need a moment,” Sturm assured, his voice thick with exhaustion, the words slurring, though he kept his hold tight on Raistlin’s fingers.

Tanis sighed, “Alright, friend. I’ll take watch with Riverwind. You rest. If you feel up to it, you can take second.”

Tanis headed back to the main group only to pause mid-step, tensing as he sensed the same presence Raistlin had, quickly drawing his sword from its sheath. In his lap, Sturm’s eyes shot open, alert and ready to move at a moment’s notice. Across the way, the others had drawn their weapons too, including Goldmoon who brandished her staff threateningly.


	3. Ghost Forest, Ghost Village

“I’m not sure weapons will be of much use,” Raistlin said softly. “These men are dead after all.” As no one spoke to correct him, it appeared they too could see the army of skeletal warriors around them, releasing a chill Raistlin had only ever experienced once before. In that moment Randal had thrown himself from Palanthas’s Tower of High Sorcery, cursing it and the grove around it. He had felt the dread fear of the dead, if only for an instant. Being forced to experience it in the flesh, in real time however, was decidedly worse.

As his Knightly Vows probably requested of him, Sturm pulled away from Raistlin and drew his sword to stand against his foe. Raistlin too twisted to his feet, hand closing around the comforting magical pulse of his staff. The warriors were wearing the armours they had died in, the metal still bearing the wounds that had killed them though their flesh no longer remained. Each warrior emitted a thin ghostly light, like a shroud, and laid hands at the ready on ghostly weapons that would kill the mortals faster than real steel.

For long moments, neither human nor spectre moved. Neither spoke. After a moment, Raistlin entertained the idea that the spectres _couldn’t_ speak. Grass shifted underfoot and once again, Tanis was beside Raistlin. “I think we were right the first time about this being Darken Wood,” the mage remarked dryly, crooked smile on his lips.

“This isn’t the time for jokes!” Tanis hissed back. Raistlin shrugged. In his opinion, they were soundly fucked. “What are these things?”

“Guardians of some kind,” Raistlin replied. “It is why they haven’t attacked yet.”

“Yet being the operative word,” Sturm remarked from Raistlin’s other side. “If they are guardians, they have a task.”

“To kill all who enter?” Tanis wondered glaring at mage and knight as though the predicament was their fault.

“I doubt it. But there is only one way to be sure. Keep Caramon back will you?” he added mildly, pushing down his fear in the trill of elation he always experienced when magic flooded his veins. It might have been better to explain what he was going to do, but as Raistlin left the path and walked toward one of the spectres, he admitted to himself it wouldn’t look nearly as impressive or sane of him to explain he was going to _try_ do magic and was just as likely to be killed by the spectres if they didn’t like Raistlin. Which… well, the forest disliked him enough already.

He was fairly sure though, that by doing this, the spectres would consider him no threat. And as far as Raistlin knew, only he and perhaps Goldmoon could have any hope of injuring the spectres. Offering himself as a mouthpiece _should_ earn them a little good grace.

“Raist!” Caramon yelled behind him, the grunts of Tanis and Sturm indicating they were fighting Caramon back for the moment.

The spectres flickered in and out of existence and seemed to part ways as Raistlin walked forward, a breeze that didn’t reach his companions blowing Raistlin’s hood back and the hair from his right eye, though the other mortals couldn’t see his face with Raistlin’s back to them. Stepping forward with more confidence than he felt, Raistlin continued his path, realising that a spectre was approaching to meet him.

It was huge, easily seven feet tall and bore a crown of some kind. Its wound was a hole the size of Raistlin’s head in the breastplate and though no skin was on the warrior, long wisps of silver hair fluttered in a non-existent wind around it. Slowly, it raised a hand. Eyes widening, Raistlin rushed to speak, “ _Ast bilak parbilakar. Suh tangus moipar_?” Spectres charmed from death did so by a magic of some kind, so even if they did not speak the language in life, it was generally understood the dead, brought to movement by magic, would learn the language posthumously. If they could be persuaded by the offer of a body to negotiate rather than kill them all, that would be great.

The crown wearing spectre halted its hand, the limb hanging in the air a moment before, in one swift movement, it both nodded and plunged its hand into Raistlin’s chest, the chill and agony of the motion hitting him with the force of a barrelling minotaur. Unable to stop himself, Raistlin shrieked in pain, losing his grip on consciousness in the process.

The world came to him as it often did in his visions, where he could see his own body and winced at the crude puppetry the spectre used to move Raistlin’s limbs so it faced the others. Everything was going to hurt when the spectre was done. Looking to the other mortals, Raistlin saw Caramon wailing and clutching onto Tanis and Sturm. Behind them, the others huddled close together in fear. Looking back to his body, Raistlin saw his face fully revealed, eyes rolled back in their sockets and his clothes and hair fluttering in that same non-existent wind as the large spectre’s. He noted as well, his body glowing with that same deathly light, which caused him to levitate slightly as if to accentuate he was nothing more than a puppet.

“Who are you that trespass in Darken Wood?” the spectre asked through the mage, his voice deeper than Raistlin thought his voice could manage and with a darkness that was deeply unpleasant on the ears, as though a monster from the depths had been given language.

No one answered for a long moment, leaving the only noise in the glade Caramon’s sobbing. Then the kender danced forward, curiosity winning out fear. Tas nimbly avoided Tanis’s grabbing hand and waved at the spectre behind Raistlin. “Hello! I’m Tasslehoff Burrfoot,” Tas explained with a last second bow. “These are my friends. Who are you?”

The kender was going to get them killed.

“It matters not,” the spectre replied, mercifully not striking Tasslehoff down for simply existing. “We are warriors from long ago. Our names do not matter.”

“Why are you in this forest?”

The spectre seemed to consider the innocence in Tasslehoff’s expression before deigning to reply, “We were tasked with guarding this land. Pledged ourselves to the cause. However, when the fiery mountain tore the world asunder, evil beings brought fear to our hearts. We were cowards and yet even in death we cannot escape. We were called to protect this land again from evil. Now that death is no longer a fear for us, perhaps we shall succeed.”

Other voices and presences filled Raistlin and the mage could only watch as his body writhed in pain, his voice box a cacophony of screaming and cut off demands as too many tried to use him. He couldn’t feel pain like this, but Raistlin had no doubt he’d feel it the moment he got his body back. He’d be lucky to get away with sleeping it off.

“My men demand to know why you entered Darken Wood,” the crowned spectre said, its voice coming through louder, silencing the others as the spectre itself raised a hand. Raistlin’s body seized a moment before going limp again. The spectre continued, “If you have come here for evil, we shall slay you where you stand.”

“No! No not evil!” Tasslehoff assured, looking around for someone, anyone to help, though the other companions were rooted in place. “It’s a very long story, but my friends and I met up after not seeing each other for five years. Five years is very long for the living you see and well, Sturm and Caramon brought the two Plainsmen at the back and Raistlin – Caramon’s brother that you’re talking to us with – just appeared and joined us. We were having a nice old time at the Inn of Last Home too, but you see there was an old man telling a story about the old gods and the High Theocrat didn’t like that much. So he tried to take Goldmoon’s staff, and Riverwind pushed him into the fire – the High Theocrat, not the old man – and he was on fire, but I stopped it with Goldmoon’s staff, which turned to blue crystal! It was all an accident really-.”

“Blue crystal?” the spectre interrupted, Raistlin’s vocal cords grinding together. The spectre walked forward, Raistlin limply floating alongside. “Show me this staff!” Tanis leapt forward and pulled Tas out of the way while Sturm pushed Caramon clear. The spectre reached out for Goldmoon, who had to dodge around Riverwind in order to approach.

Bravely, she didn’t falter in her steps and held aloft the staff, which, true to form, shed its mundane appearance for one of pure blue crystal, shimmering in the light of Raistlin’s staff and the flickering lights of the spectres. Unlike those ghostly lights though, Goldmoon’s staff shone bright, strong and warm, the companions finding themselves drawn to it like moths to a flame.

Spectres flickered more violently around them, the crowned spectre turned to Raistlin, made him wave a hand to the companions with a force that looked to pop the arm from Raistlin’s shoulder socket, though thankfully it wasn’t the arm holding his staff. “Come. You are summoned.” The crowned spectre turned and started to walk away, pausing only long enough to cajole Raistlin’s body into doing the same, following after them like a child’s ragdoll.

“Raist! No!” Caramon roared, getting up and racing to grab at Raistlin, only to release his brother as though burned, crying out in pain. “Argh!”

“Caramon?!” Tanis was on the big man instantly, checking him over, “What happened? Where-?”

“My hand,” Caramon croaked, showing the limb which was coated in frost, the skin bluing, “Raist’s covered in it.” Sniffling, he looked to the spectres, “Y-you can’t, give my brother back!”

“Caramon,” said Goldmoon gently, her hand on his shoulder as he cried. “I think we need to follow them.”

The other spectres surrounded the companions like a guard escort, keeping close ranks so the mortals didn’t run off.

As the mortals finally followed, and in turn, the crowned spectre reached his destination, Raistlin could feel his body becoming free from the spell, allowing him to re-enter it should he wish. The barren glade they were now in was quiet, but not in an oppressive manner. It was peaceful, more so than the other parts of Darken Wood. At least to Raistlin anyway. Looking around and seeing no further danger, Raistlin decided it was best to return to his body. Sturm and Caramon were starting to come out of the treeline anyway, he would be safe.

“Raist!” Caramon yelled, pelting over along with the knight.

Raistlin upon returning to his body, was overwhelmed with pain and cold, crumpling to the ground only for large tender hands to cradle him close. It hurt to move, to make noise, but still, Raistlin forced his left eye open, short shallow breaths the best his battered form could manage at the moment. Above him, Sturm and Caramon blocked his view of the sky. “I’m okay,” he tried to say, the words ending up slurred and mangled together, ending with Raistlin losing his breath to the worst coughing fit he thought he’d ever had.

“Don’t be fretting, ye can rest soon,” a voice called out, strong and alive, though Raistlin had no inclination to look for the speaker over hacking up his lungs. He tried to twist out of Caramon’s grip to better get air in his chest to cough, only to put pressure on his dislocated shoulder, thin bile coming up to join his bloody coughs. Shuddering and wheezing for breath, Raistlin realised he had missed a great deal. They seemed to be surrounded by centaur, though he was struggling to focus on the figures, black dancing in his vision.

“My brother is ill,” Caramon said, his voice dripping with venom, “He can’t go anywhere.”

“He can ride on my back,” the centaur offered.

What Raistlin thought was a blink must have been him passing out, for he remembered being on the floor in Caramon’s arms, but was now sat on something warm, the faint scent of horse wafting into his nose, Caramon’s broad arm still looped around him, “Raist, Raist are you awake?” his brother said.

“What’s happening?” They seemed to be moving. That or Raistlin’s equilibrium had yet to settle.

“The centaur are taking us somewhere. The Forestmaster or something. Are you okay?”

Raistlin was beginning to hate that question. “No. The spectre pulled my arm out of its socket.”

“I’ll have a look when we stop, and try get it back in place,” Caramon promised. Raistlin didn’t reply, his eyes sliding shut in favour of trying to focus on breathing

“Raistlin, why has your staff’s light gone out?”

Raistlin groaned, speaking hurt since the spectres had mangled his throat. “There’s magic in the forest,” he said hoarsely. “Either it’s negating my own, or the magic I cast on my staff has run out.”

“Time to get off, we’re here!” the centaur they were riding declared.

“What do you mean here?! I can’t see a damn thing!” Caramon argued. The darkness was unnatural, oppressive. Not even the stars glittered in the sky.

“Off. Boy,” the half-man, half-horse pressed, his tone leaving no room for argument. Raistlin didn’t fight Caramon pulling him into his arms, his own legs felt like jelly, struggled to support him even with his staff.

“My sword’s gone!” Tanis called from somewhere to their left. Others answered him to say the same.

“I have my staff!” called Goldmoon. Raistlin slumped against his brother. He guessed their non-magical weapons had gone, since only their staffs remained. Hopefully they would be returned, otherwise it would be on Goldmoon to save them all.

“Raist.” Caramon’s arm was under his armpit pressing him against Caramon’s chain shirt in an attempt to hold him up. Raistlin was eternally grateful it was too dark to see.

“You’re crushing me,” he breathed back. Concentrating, Raistlin flexed one leg, then the other. No breaks. It hurt to put weight on his limbs, but he could manage with support. “My staff hand. Put it around your shoulders. I think I can stand.”

They shifted around in the dark, Raistlin biting down on his lip to keep his cry of pain back. Caramon grunted as his hand brushed the staff, his grip on Raistlin’s wrist crushing. Caramon was taller than Raistlin by half a head too, making the position uncomfortable, but at least the bigger man was able to take most of Raistlin’s weight.

“How are you feeling?” Caramon whispered.

Raistlin rolled his eyes and was spared answering by Tanis calling out, “Is everyone here? Tas? Raistlin?”

“I’m here Tanis! Wasn’t it wonderful? Flint kept sneezing though,” the kender giggled.

“I’m allergic to horses,” Flint growled.

“Enough, both of you. Caramon!”

“We’re here Tanis. Why is it so dark?” Caramon called back.

“Magic,” Raistlin groaned. Was it just not obvious to these people?

“Ah, I see you have arrived,” a new voice called, deep, but decidedly feminine. It reminded Raistlin of Lunitari, though he knew the voice didn’t belong to her.

“Who are you?” barked Tanis, “Show yourself!”

“Where are our weapons?” Sturm demanded.

“I have taken them,” the voice responded, “They will be returned when you leave this place. No one, not even a Knight of Solamnia is permitted to bring a weapon into Darken Wood. Even Huma laid the Dragonlance before me.” Shocked gasps came from the others as light slowly permeated the darkness as if it were a curtain being pulled aside, revealing a pure white horse with a horn in its forehead jutting towards the sky. It stood high on a hill, Solinari shining like a beacon behind.

“That was my father’s sword,” Sturm mumbled, his voice cracking as the unicorn approached them.

“I will keep it safe,” the unicorn responded kindly, “It is an old and treasured blade, I understand, forgive my caution. And forgive me too, young mage, but I ask that you leave your staff in my care for the moment.”

“If I were to stand here and drop everything you might consider a weapon it would be like watching a kender unpack his pouches,” Raistlin replied in a harsh whisper, not nearly as enchanted by the unicorn as Caramon looked to be. Although it was entirely possible the slack jawed expression on his brother’s face was due to envisioning the unicorn on a spit.

“I have already taken your component pouches and your knife, young mage,” the unicorn responded with a hint of amusement. “Your staff is all that I ask for.”

Raistlin met its beady eyes a moment, saw the age behind them and couldn’t smother a smirk. It couldn’t touch his staff because the magic that had forged it was too old. Even older than a unicorn that apparently predated the Cataclysm. “What about the crystal staff?”

“It is a powerful weapon designed for good, for healing the sick and injured. It will be needed in the coming times against the darkness.”

“Ah, it doesn’t class as a weapon because it doesn’t hurt you.” Raistlin summarised. Reluctantly, he released the Staff of Magius, letting it fall to the floor. They needed to proceed, it would be a waste of time to demand he be allowed an exception.

“Thank you. Come, I have prepared a table for you all.”

“How does a unicorn set a table?” Tas wondered, hushed quickly by Tanis.

The unicorn turned from them, leading the way though a clear meadow, the moonlight giving them as much light as the sun did in daytime. “Who are you?” Tanis asked again this time respectfully, imploring, not demanding.

“The Forestmaster.”

The words seemed to carry a weight, Raistlin’s vision swam, causing him to shut his eyes and duck his head. When he raised it again there was a white cloth laid out on the ground, and centaurs flitted around the glade with globes of light woven basins with water and forest foods.

Caramon shifted to lower Raistlin to the ground against a tree while the Forestmaster spoke with Tanis. “Can you shift your robes so I can look at the joint? Or can I move them?”

Raistlin thought about it, letting out a sharp breath as Caramon’s fingers nudged at his tender shoulder. “You,” he gasped out, letting his head fall back against the tree.

“What the-? There’s like… six layers here and more buckles than a prison jacket,” Caramon griped as he pulled at Raistlin’s robes. “When does it end?”

“Could you not do that quietly?” Sturm hissed.

“Raist’s shoulder is dislocated,” Caramon hissed back. Though his eyes were closed, Raistlin heard the knight kneel beside them, his hands also joining the painful fumbling. His jaw hurt from clenching it to keep from shouting. One of them grabbed him and jerked hard on his upper arm. His throat tightened and his stomach heaved though there was nothing to throw up.

“Ahhhh,” Raistlin moaned, red faced and coughing before the colour drained from him.

“Wiggle your fingers for me.” When Raistlin didn’t obey, hands squeezed his. He just wanted to sleep. But the hands were insistent for his attention.

“I can’t wiggle them if you break them, Sturm,” he returned in a whisper, grimacing as he willed his fingers to move. “Where’s Caramon.”

“Battling with his belly. You passed out again,” the knight noted. “There’s food, and a table with chairs. Lift your arm, does it hurt?”

“Chairs? But they’re all horses, why do they need chairs?” Sturm, losing his patience, raised Raistlin’s arm for him. “Ow ow ow. Stop stop,” he moaned, raising his good arm. He took a moment, then tested the bad shoulder, slowly, teeth gritted. “I think it’s okay.”

“Good, then let’s get you to the table before Goldmoon decides we are an embarrassment to her royal nuisance. They refuse to eat without everyone seated and Caramon’s belly is starting to sound like a dragon.”

“Have you ever heard a dragon?” Raistlin asked, allowing Sturm to help him to his feet and hating every second his legs were forced to take his weight.

“Have you?”

“This chair only has one leg,” Raistlin said instead, eyes widening slightly as it balanced itself and held his weight. The smell of roasted meat made his stomach churn, though he could see it having the opposite effect on Caramon, who was salivating. No one gave a signal but his brother dug in anyway, only to suddenly grow a moral compass and apologise to the Forestmaster for eating what could have been a dear friend.

“It’s the circle of life. One ends and fuels another. We do not morn those who die fulfilling their destinies,” the Forestmaster assured, turning to Sturm as she said the last.

Raistlin frowned, “Well aren’t you a cheery bugger?”

“Raistlin!” berated Caramon, Tanis and Goldmoon. Raistlin ignored them, choosing to glare at the Forestmaster.

“If you don’t like your destiny, you should always fight it.”

The unicorn watched him intently with dark eyes as though she could see deep into his soul. “Everyone dies, it is the natural order of things,” she declared.

Raistlin swallowed. Some people were quite persistent about not dying. But he wasn’t going to discuss such things here, with people who barely knew him or a bloody unicorn that feared his staff.

She moved on to continue to speak with Tanis and Goldmoon about peace and the meaning of life. Raistlin tuned them out in favour of staring at his fingers. Someone had washed him, he was sure there had been dirt on the palm from when they had trekked through the woods earlier.

“We were brought water to wash with. Caramon washed your hands in an attempt to get food faster,” Sturm explained from the seat beside him. Raistlin’s lips pulled into a small smile.

“Sounds about right,” he said quietly. “Could you pass me some water?” He noticed food on Sturm’s plate and that the man had regained some colour compared to when they had made camp.

As if sensing some of Raistlin’s thoughts, the knight spoke as he offered the water to Raistlin. “You should eat something. You’ll feel better.” To the knight’s other side sat Tasslehoff, a person Raistlin was glad to have been spared conversation from. The kender ate with one hand, asking questions of Riverwind any time his mouth was empty enough to speak and had his other hand filling his pouches almost absently.

Sipping at the water, Raistlin shook his head. “I’m worn from the spectres. I’d rather sleep.”

“It would be rude not to eat something.”

“I can’t say I care.”

Sturm smiled, “You and Caramon both. Though I think that could be more your upbringing.”

“We can’t all live in castles.”

“Castles aren’t all they are cracked up to be,” Sturm sighed, turning to pluck cutlery from Tas’s pouch and return it to the table before the kender realised.

“Do you remember them?” Sturm had been young when he’d come to Solace, seeking refuge with his mother from the fighting in Solamnia.

“Little. I remember fine furs and warm stories by the fire, my parents either side. But then I also remember long empty stone halls, oppressive quiet.” Sturm frowned at his plate. Unlike Raistlin, who was half slumped on the table, arms under his chin, Sturm sat straight backed and looked almost regal, his elbows hovering above the white cloth, cutlery held with more dignity than Raistlin generally possessed in his entire body. How Sturm managed to keep food crumbs out of his moustaches was also beyond Raistlin’s comprehension. “Raistlin, Raistlin!”

The mage startled as Sturm shook his shoulder. “Hm?”

“You didn’t reply,” Sturm said slowly. “And you were staring.”

“Oh. I… must have zoned out.” Raistlin turned and rubbed his face. Something nudged his elbow. A bowl of bread, put there by Sturm.

“Eat something,” the knight insisted.

Rubbing his face harder, Raistlin relented, taking some of the bread and picking the soft inner out of it. Aware Sturm was watching him with a frown, Raistlin popped some of the bread into his mouth. “What were you saying before?”

“That I went back to Solamnia recently. Kitiara came too.”

“Oh? Were you also close with Kitiara?”

“A little. Mostly it is that we both had business with Solamnia. We were both in search of our fathers.” Sturm looked a little awkward as he spoke, though Raistlin wasn’t sure if it was the journey or the destination that caused the feeling.

“Did you find Lord Brightblade or Uth Matar?”

“No, my father had died and Kitiara’s father was not there.” Sturm placed a hand to his breastplate. “I was able to escape Solamnia with his armour, sword and my life. It… The land is not in a good place, the Knighthood hides, though to travel not as a knight is against the Measure, the rules as it were,” he added for Raistlin, who didn’t care for rules in general, but still possessed enough brainpower to conflate the notion with being suddenly informed all wizards were banned from wearing coloured robes, or that they should all suddenly wear white to appease the people.

“Solamnia is far north… did you see the armies brewing up there?”

Sturm shook his head. “I did not. Much of my time in Solamnia was spent in political discourse. Assassins I can deal with, debt collectors not so much.”

“You were in debt?”

“My father caused significant financial troubles while dealing with the coup. Instead of inheriting my family’s fortunes, I inherited their debt and sold most of my land in order to off-set the debt. It was Kitiara that acquired the armour actually. She stole it and didn’t tell me until we left my land, intending to go our separate ways.”

Raistlin hummed, “That sounds like Kitiara. She was always the type to get what she wanted quickly rather than ‘properly’.”

“Raistlin, have you heard of the Order of Draco?” called Tanis, drawing the attention of the other companions too.

“Should I have?” Raistlin raised an eyebrow, reaching for the water again.

“It is what the draconians claim to belong to,” the Forestmaster explained.

Taking a sip Raistlin shook his head. “It means nothing to me, but I haven’t been part of the Conclave group looking into the draconians.”

“Why’s that?” asked Flint.

Without missing a beat, Raistlin replied, “They’re all black robes.” It took great effort to keep his expression neutral as all sound stopped dead in the wake of his statement. Flint had gone an impressive shade of purple, while Caramon and Sturm paled. Tasslehoff, of course, was looking at Raistlin in wonderment. The kender opened his mouth to speak, but Riverwind clapped his hand over Tas’s face.

“Why would the evil mages be interested in that?” Tanis asked slowly.

“Why would they be trusted?” Flint shot, grumbling under his breath.

Raistlin rolled his eyes. “As I hear it, the northern armies use strange magic, but I’m not exactly privy to all of the Conclave’s information. Black robes are classified because of their personal views and magical taste, not because they murder children in their spare time.” Though that preference probably didn’t help matters.

It also didn’t help that no one was laughing. _I miss other mages_ , he lamented.

“Was… that a joke?” Goldmoon sounded like she would slap him if that was the case.

“Forgive me,” Raistlin backpedalled. “I forget my place.” He coughed to clear his throat, suddenly very uncomfortable. “I do know that the draconians aren’t natural to this world, there’s no record of them in the Conclave’s extensive library.”

Tanis hummed, “So it’s possible that the armies in the north are wizards and draconians, as well as normal soldiers?” He rubbed his chin and turned to the Forestmaster again. “You said that the draconians you saw hailed from Haven?” the unicorn bowed her head. “Then Haven is out as a destination.”

“We should go north and inspect these armies,” Sturm said.

Tanis shook his head, “We need to protect the staff, Qualinesti would be the nearest point of safe council.”

“Because they’re racist isolationists?” Raistlin shot, “You’d be lucky to enter with only half-elvish blood. None of us will be allowed in.”

Caramon nudged Raistlin gently. “Tanis is from Qualinesti, Raist. He’s the bastard son of the king’s sister and goes back there sometimes.”

Well that would have been nice to know about _before_ he put his foot in it. Raistlin put his head in his hand and was spared continuing to embarrass himself as the Forestmaster spoke.

“The elves have issues of their own, the draconians threaten their lands too.”

“Then we must go to them-!” Tanis started only to be cut off.

“No,” said the Forestmaster. “You can be of more help to them by taking that staff to where it belongs.”

“And where would that be?” asked Goldmoon. The crystal staff was dug into the ground by her chair, well with reach and in sight of herself and Riverwind. Though they seemed to trust the Forestmaster more than Raistlin was inclined to, at least they were being careful, unlike Caramon who was eating as though it was going to be his last meal.

“The ruins of Xak Tsaroth. Evil sieges that place, as well as searches for the staff. They seek to destroy it,” the Forestmaster explained.

“Are they looking to see if someone has already taken the staff there?” Sturm wondered. “There can’t be many that know the staff is with us.”

The Forestmaster shook her head slowly, “I do not believe so, more that they expect the staff to end up there and are fortifying the ruins to make such a feat harder.”

Raistlin yawned, pushing the bowl of bread out of the way so he could slump on the table, head on his folded arms, eyes falling closed. Under the tablecloth Sturm kicked his shin. Reluctantly, Raistlin shifted to open his left eye and quirk an eyebrow at the knight. Sturm jerked his chin towards the Forestmaster. Raistlin rolled his eyes.

“I know you’re tired,” the knight murmured, “But please at least pretend to pay attention.”

“There’s not much point in listening when my opinion doesn’t matter,” Raistlin answered simply, shutting his eyes again.

“Where is Xak Tsaroth?” asked Caramon.

“Over the Eastwall Mountains,” replied Flint gruffly. “We’d have to travel through goblin lands, dragonian lands, the barbarian lands. And that’s assuming we get out of this damned forest unscathed!”

“The Qué-Shu and other tribes likely wouldn’t appreciate our presence,” Goldmoon noted, looking sadly at Riverwind. Outcasts then, possibly, Raistlin thought. He’d have to ask Caramon later so as not to make a fool of himself again.

“Why do you assume your opinion doesn’t matter?” Sturm asked Raistlin, though his eyes followed the conversation around him as Goldmoon and Riverwind tried to make a case for going to Xak Tsaroth alone.

“I’m the outsider here, even the Plainsmen hold more standing in your group as they are what you are protecting. That little spark of true healing is worth more to this world than my entire spellbook,” the mage explained. Changing the subject he asked, “What do you want to do?”

“Me?” Sturm startled. “I would go north, scout out the armies and meet with what remains of the Knighthood. If they have a cause they can rally behind, they would be able to gain footing with the public. Rise up again against this evil plaguing the land.” He made a soft noise, continuing, “But Tanis and Caramon are long-time friends, and dear to me. They were with me when my mother died and helped me through the months after. Flint gave me work, showed me how knives and armour are made, how they balance and how to repair them. I don’t want to abandon them.”

“What about you, Raist?” Caramon asked, looking to his brother and frowning. “Are you asleep?”

“I wish,” Raistlin huffed. “What, Caramon?”

“Well… we are going to go to Xak Tsaroth. I just… wanted to check you’d come?” The hesitant hope in that question made Raistlin sigh, pushing himself to sit upright again.

“Caramon. I came to Solace to be with you and make sure you stay safe. Why would I not follow you to Xak Tsaroth?” Caramon’s eyes widened, a soft eager smile pulling at his lips, Raistlin responding with a gentle quirk of his lips.

“Do you know what’s in Xak Tsaroth?” asked Tanis drawing the mage’s attention.

“I don’t know anything about the area. I think there used to be a shrine to the old gods – our destination, I assume – but beyond that, I haven’t the foggiest.” Raistlin shrugged. “What about the Forestmaster?”

“I know not what specifically lies there, but you are correct there was once a shrine to Mishakal,” the unicorn agreed. “I can assist your travel by lending you steeds, for I believe that if the staff is taken there, the way forward for fighting these new foes will be revealed.”

“Steeds?” asked Caramon, following the Forestmaster’s gaze as she raised her gaze to the sky. “Oh my.”

“Flying horses…” whispered Flint.

“Pegasi,” Sturm corrected, though he looked no less mystified, staring up at the sky as though his childhood story books were coming to life. Raistlin was decidedly less impressed. He didn’t fancy his chances of riding a normal horse in his current condition, let alone trying to ride one in the air.

“Are we… going now?” he questioned.

“Yes, don’t worry,” the Forestmaster added as the pure white pegasi landed. “I know you have had a trying day, the spectres allowed you no rest before bringing you to me, you will be safe riding no matter your fatigue.”

The largest of the pegasi, with a wingspan greater than Riverwind and Caramon were tall together, walked towards the Forestmaster, bowing low in reverence. “You have summoned us, Master?”

“I wish for you to help my guests. They have urgent business and must travel over the Eastwall Mountains,” the Forestmaster responded regally.

The pegasus looked from the Forestmaster to the companions, giving a slight whinny, tone dripping with disapproval. “A kender, a man that is neither human nor elf, a dwarf and the most deathly looking mage I have ever laid eyes upon? Are you sure these are the chosen ones?” After sharing an intense look with the Forestmaster, the pegasus bowed again, “Yes, Master.”

Raistlin withered, pouting slightly the descriptor. “’Get possessed’ they said. ‘It’s not that bad’ they said,” he muttered under his breath, rising from his chair and reaching out a hand. As if responding to his will, the Staff of Magius appeared in his hand. Without breaking his stride, Raistlin went to one of the other pegasi, figuring the biggest one was better left for the bigger and bulkier of their group.

“How’d you do that?” asked Tasslehoff, suddenly at his side. Raistlin startled so violently his breath caught, leading him to double over with coughing. “Oh dear, do you need some more water?” the kender asked, hand reaching absently for the staff.

Catching the movement, Raistlin shifted the staff out of Tas’s immediate reach, holding back a groan as Caramon came up behind him to check on him. “I’m fine,” he told the two when he had breath. “Can we just move on? Preferably before winter comes?”

Caramon looked both hurt and doubtful, but nodded. “Yeah, we’ll get nowhere if we keep stopping. Can you mount?” he asked Raistlin.

“I wouldn’t mind a leg up,” the mage admitted with a frown. He’d normally be able to manage, but wandering kender and weakened limbs made it harder.

Seated in front of the wing joint of the pegasus, Caramon cast one last uncertain look at the steed and his brother before reluctantly taking off to climb onto his own pegasus. Raistlin followed Caramon with his gaze, catching sight of Goldmoon in the process. She looked like a warrior queen from the Cataclysm. She was imposing, regal, with a mystical, sure, calming air around her.

The pegasi broke into gallops, rising quickly into the air with no warning, Raistlin’s heels gripping tight in panic.

“Calm down, mage,” his steed grunted, “You won’t fall. Be still.”

Raistlin wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t have much strength left and was forced to relax his leg as a cramp shot through his calf. He could feel magic pulling at him, asking him to sleep. A spell stronger than he was. He was unable to fight the magic, and so was unsurprised when he came to wake on soft dry grass an unknown amount of time later.

Pushing to a seated position, Raistlin saw the companions were alone, and Tanis was the only other one awake. The half-elf looked furious, pacing in the grass before flopping down as the sun began to rise.

“I see we aren’t over the mountains,” he noted softly, getting to his feet with the help of his staff.

Tanis looked over. “No. The pegasi claim there is a darkness there that they dare not approach.”

“So they’re scared?”

“Basically,” Tanis grumbled, pulling up a fistful of grass. “And we still get to march towards evil,” he sighed, turning back to the sunrise.

“There are no trees,” Raistlin noted, looking around at the flat land. “I think we’re in Plainsmen territory.”

“I’ll ask Riverwind when he’s up,” Tanis assured. “For now, there’s no reason to wake them unnecessarily. Are you rested enough?” he added, glancing at Raistlin as he sat down beside the half-elf.

“Just about,” Raistlin shrugged. Squinting, he looked into the distance, something about the sunrise wasn’t quite right.

“You can lie down if you need,” Tanis assured. “I’ll keep watch and wake you in a couple of hours.”

“I’m not sure we have a couple of hours,” said Raistlin pointing.

Following Raistlin’s finger, Tanis stared for a moment before twisting to his feet and going to shake Riverwind. Raistlin stayed where he was, yawning and pulling up his sleeve to check his knife had indeed been returned.

“Fire… My village is that way,” Riverwind said slowly, his brain quietly putting the information together. Suddenly the man was on his knees, roaring like a wounded animal. The others were awake instantly, scrambling to their feet.

“What’s going on?” demanded Caramon, looking between Riverwind and Tanis, who was trying to comfort him, to Raistlin who still sat facing the sunrise.

“Their village,” Tanis said, pointing to the distance. “It’s burning.”

“What?” Goldmoon took half a step forward, her words barely more than a whisper. Her breath came faster and faster, catching in her throat. Sturm put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you sure it’s burning? Maybe those are campfires,” Tas said gently.

Goldmoon didn’t answer. Her feet pounded the ground, dodging past Riverwind, the larger Plainsmen chasing after her. “No, Goldmoon!” Tanis gave chase too along with Tas, leaving Sturm, Caramon, Flint and Raistlin behind.

“We should follow them,” Caramon said reaching for the forgotten packs of those who ran ahead. “Huh. Hey, these are heavier.”

“They are?” Sturm joined Caramon and pulled his own pack open. “Food. Several days’ worth. I didn’t pack this.”

Caramon checked his own, “The same in here. And my sword is back,” he added, hand on the hilt.

“Well, the added provisions make up for the pegasi not taking us all the way,” Raistlin sighed, pulling his bag open and pulling out two plums. Shoving one in a pocket in his robes and biting into the other, Raistlin shouldered his pack and picked up some of the items Tas had dropped in his haste.

Caramon shouldered his own pack and Tanis’s easily while Flint picked up Goldmoon’s. “Can you manage Riverwind’s, Sturm?” the big man asked, offering a hand.

“Yes, I think so,” Sturm dismissed, picking up the pack. The bandage on his head had come loose at some point during the flight here, revealing angry pink skin and a large scab holding the skin together. Reaching out, Raistlin pried the bandage away, Sturm staring at him intently all the while.

“You’re better then?” he asked the knight slowly.

“Yes, I feel much better for sleeping,” Sturm admitted.

“What about you, Raist?” Caramon cut in.

Flint rolled his eyes, “Walk and talk, they may need our help in Qué-Shu!”

Sturm followed beside Flint and Caramon sidled himself next to Raistlin. Rolling his eyes the mage went back to his plum. “I feel well enough, Caramon.” His throat hurt far less and while his muscles still ached, he appreciated Flint wasn’t making him run after the others.

“Are you sure? I can take your pack too.”

Raistlin sighed. “Unless you’re planning to court me, _brother_ , I can manage. Save your strength for fighting or showboating,” he added, ignoring the three spluttering men who turned beet red.

* * *

When they arrived, there was no need for battle. There was no indication that the bodies they saw had even fought back against whatever had killed them. Some distance away where the smell of burning flesh couldn’t reach, Goldmoon and Riverwind were on their knees, the man holding a weeping Goldmoon close to his chest, his cheeks also wet with tears.

“Everyone is dead,” Tasslehoff said sadly, coming over to them with a sniffle and shoving his face into Flint’s beard. The normally irate dwarf softened, putting an arm around him.

Sturm looked over the flayed bodies, then, paling, turned his gaze to stone that been heated so much it had melted. “How… did this happen?” Turning to Raistlin, he asked, “Magic?”

Raistlin swallowed thickly. “A stronger magic than any one mage should be capable of.”

“So… an army of wizards?” guessed Caramon turning his head as Tanis came over. The half-elf had gone to double check for survivors, telling a story of how he’d heard tale of how during the Cataclysm, parents had sheltered children from the flames of the fiery mountain, allowing them to crawl out from under their dead parents.

“No. I don’t know why, but the magic doesn’t feel quite the same,” Raistlin said, turning away from the gore, his stomach churning. “If no one’s here, we should move on. We can’t be the only one to have seen the smoke.”

“There was one thing, words carved into a shield before three hobgoblin corpses,” Tanis explained. “’This is what happens to those who take prisoners against my commands. Kill or be killed. Verminaard.’ Does that mean anything to anyone?” Each person shook their heads, turned their gazes from Qué-Shu sadly.

There was no conversation from when the group moved on until they set the night’s watch. The Plainsmen were withdrawn, Tanis steering Riverwind with firm grips on the shoulder and meaningful glances, the Plainsman gently drawing Goldmoon along with them with a tenderness belying his size.

Caramon didn’t mention food, his stomach made no noise either. Tas offered no meaningless chatter, Raistlin found himself silently leaning against Caramon, gaining some amount of comfort in hearing his brother’s strong heartbeat, feeling the natural warmth of Caramon’s living body.

Tanis was on first watch, though during that time, only Tasslehoff and Goldmoon were able to slip into sleep, the later still curled up in Riverwind’s arms. After that, Sturm took over and once Caramon had fallen asleep, Raistlin slipped from his bedroll to join the knight, the moonlight bright enough to spot Sturm near the edge of camp with his blanket around his shoulders to ward of the night’s chill.

“You should be asleep,” Sturm said softly, his moustaches hardly moving with the words.

“I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I remember that place,” Raistlin said, sitting down by the knight. “Then my stomach flips and it’s all I can do to keep the vomit back.”

Sturm shot him a sympathetic look. “I’ve never seen anything like that. And… that there was nothing left… What could have caused it?”

“A monster of some kind.”

Sturm hummed darkly. Silence fell over the two for some time before Raistlin broke it again. “What do you do to deal with feelings of despair?”

The knight looked over, hand coming to twirl his moustache in thought. “I don’t know. I would normally talk the situation over with Tanis or Caramon. But in this case… what is there to say? Whatever did that wasn’t a foe we have faced before. Whatever Verminaard is… I’m not sure I want to find out.” The knight drifted off, looked shamed as he cast his gaze away.

“It is not cowardice to feel fear,” the mage told him gently. “It is also wise I believe, to be wary of the unknown.”

“I don’t suppose you know more than you’re letting on?”

“Because I can See?” Raistlin scoffed. “I have no idea what attacked Qué-Shu. I hope we don’t find out. And why would a knight be so keen to believe the arcane?”

“I’m not,” Sturm shook his head, “I just… wondered. You know a lot of things. I thought perhaps you might know of some obscure reference that might explain what we saw.”

“We saw cruelty, Sturm.” Raistlin’s voice was tight. “They didn’t need to burn down the village but they did. Goldmoon’s staff is the only sign of true healing this land has seen in over three hundred years. And now we have draconians and Vernimaard to deal with. If we cross them, will the staff be enough?”

Sturm looked up to the sky, the stars glittering on the dark canvas. “My mother used to say that if the constellations moved, then the gods also moved. If Paladine and Takhisis are acting… where are they?”

“My father used to say gods moved through people,” Raistlin returned. “My Master, Antimodes, was of the same belief. He would often tell me he could feel Solinari’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him.”

“If they only needed to move through people the sky would not have a massive hole in it,” Sturm decided. “I think the Dark Queen is up to something and Paladine is trying to find out what.”

“Well, if he ever feels like dropping by, I’ll gladly tell him the shitshow Krynn is in,” said Raistlin humourlessly. Rising, the mage rubbed his eye, “I’m going to try sleep, otherwise I fear I’ll lag behind tomorrow.” Sturm raised his hand in a wave, returned to his watch. Raistlin settled into an uneasy dream filled with fire and screaming.


	4. Xak Tsaroth

He awoke feeling dreadful. His head throbbed from clenching his teeth in the night and the right side of his head was on fire, his eye felt like thousands of tiny needles were being pushed through it into his brain. Making his way from camp under the guise of relieving himself, Raistlin threw up yesterday’s meagre meal.

He returned to Tanis and Riverwind looking over a map, Flint and Tas not too far away commenting on the routes the two taller men were discussing.

Sturm was dozing while Caramon helped Goldmoon make something warm for breakfast, looking over to Raistlin with a smile that quickly faded as he looked his brother over. “Raist, are you okay? You’re very pale.”

“Bad dream,” Raistlin said. It wasn’t a complete lie but he didn’t intend to expand on it, going to his pack and pulling out his spellbook to avoid any more conversation. He was mildly surprised when Goldmoon sat beside him, her hand on his shoulder waiting for his attention. So she knew something of wizardry. Or at least something of how to gain the attention of someone who was busy.

Finishing the spell he had been reading he looked over to her. “Yes?”

“You look to be in pain, allow me to try help,” she said softly. Raistlin tracked his gaze from her face to her staff, clenched in a white knuckled grip.

“You are also in pain, but there is nothing that can be done about that.”

She lowered her gaze at his words but didn’t comment, the tip of her staff came towards his head slowly. Breathing a sigh through his nose, Raistlin closed his spellbook for the time being, looking down at the red leather cover as the staff shifted, bathing him in soft blue light that didn’t hurt compared to the last time the staff had touched him. His headache alleviated as did the ache in his jaw, but the pain in his eye remained. Still, Raistlin thanked Goldmoon and noticed when the soft call for breakfast came that he could keep food down without nausea.

“It looks like we aren’t far from Xak Tsaroth,” Tanis explained as they ate. “Riverwind believes the road we’re on will take us through the mountains. From there Flint thinks it will only take us another day to reach the city.”

“And then we pass on the staff and are done?” asked Caramon.

Tanis shrugged, “I assume so.”

“Is it right though?” Sturm wondered, “To hand this staff and the problems it brings to another?” A hush fell over the group, eyes finding their closest companions or looking to their breakfasts as though they held the answers to their woes. After a moment, Sturm spoke up again. “I am an orphan. I have no wife, no children. No home. Anyone whom I might care about is in front of me now. When we go to Xak Tsaroth and take the staff to where it is meant to be, I think I shall travel with its new bearer, since the enemy, whoever they are, must know by now that we travel with the staff.”

“I agree, Sturm,” Caramon said gravely. “I was thinking something similar. There’s no less danger to us by staying with the staff than abandoning it. If we are found without, they will simply demand its location from us, kill us or torture us into revealing its destination. So I will stay with it too.”

Raistlin sighed, “Then I suppose I shall stay with you both. You are not wrong after all.” Caramon smiled a warm but sad smile at him, which Raistlin returned with a crooked quirk of his lips.

Goldmoon ran her staff over the handle of the staff. “I too have no one,” she began, only to be interrupted by Riverwind.

“You do.”

“I have you, yes,” she smiled at him, but the big man shook his head.

“No, I mean you do have people, Chieftain,” he said, Goldmoon startling at the new title. “I saw tracks. I’m sure some of our people managed to flee. Those are our people. Whom you will rule. I believe they have hidden in the mountains.”

Goldmoon’s face shone like her namesakes, hope coming back to her, seemingly rejuvenating her body. The two spoke animatedly in their own tongue, something Raistlin couldn’t understand, their hands snaking together.

Tanis smiled warmly at the two before looking at his friends. “I suppose we’ll cross the bridge of staying or going with the staff’s next bearer as we go on. For now, we better get going before someone spots us.”

The trail through the mountains led them along a stone road that appeared to have once been well cared for and paved with cobbles. Now though after years of disuse the stones were either ground into the trail or missing entirely leaving gaps just large enough to trap some of the companion’s smaller boots, lodging Flint in particular in the ground more times than the dwarf was comfortable with.

After a few miles the path sloped down rather drastically and drew the group to a swamp. The bank was nothing but wet dirt; a thick mud that they slowly sunk in the longer they stood pondering what to do or where to go.

“What’s that smell?” asked Caramon, wrinkling his nose. “Smells like shit and rotten eggs.”

“Miasma. Bad air,” Raistlin explained, holding a handkerchief over his nose. “It would be unwise to linger here.”

“Let’s go back to the road, there must be another path somewhere,” Tanis reasoned, looking at the withered and warped trees branching out of the swamp as though the sight of the unhealthy things physically offended him.

“Tanis look!” exclaimed Tas jabbing a finger at an area of the bank near Flint. A snake as thick as Caramon’s arm slithered by. Flint, seeing the snake too and noting it was a lot bigger than he was hurried away while it wasn’t looking at him.

“We’re going to get killed trying to go this way,” the dwarf swore, white as a sheet.

“Luckily there is a way,” Riverwind soothed, his gaze far off. “Follow me.”

“First Sturm and now Riverwind,” Tanis mumbled, “Are we all going to be possessed with divine navigation?” It didn’t stop him following the Plainsman though.

“You’ve been here before,” Raistlin noted, watching Riverwind as the Plainsman looked about in the manner one often did when looking for familiar landmarks to map their path.

“Yes, I don’t quite remember how or when. I thought it a dream. This is the path to the place I found the staff,” Riverwind mumbled, starting towards the bog, Tanis not far behind.

“So you stole it?” Raistlin surmised. “And now we’re taking it back.”

“Raistlin!” Tanis snapped, whirling on the mage. Raistlin glared back.

“What? How am I wrong?” he shot at the half-elf. “What is the fucking point in taking the staff from where it was supposed to be only to take it back, what, a week later?”

Riverwind swallowed, “The draconians were already here when I took the staff. A voice told me to remove it and leave the foul city.”

Raistlin opened his mouth to reply acidly, only for Caramon to cut him off. “We can discuss this later. You said we shouldn’t linger in the bad air, Raistlin,” he reminded his brother. “Secure your staff and get ready to travel through the swamp.”

Raistlin did one better, he walked back up the path until he couldn’t taste the fetid air and after several deep breaths that did nothing to calm him, swung his staff at the nearest rock, reducing a large section of it to rubble. Adding a few choice swears in Solamnic to the mix, Raistlin marched back to find Caramon waiting on the bank, the others slowly progressing over the swamp via raised tree roots led by Riverwind.

“Do you feel better?” Caramon asked, tying a handkerchief over his mouth.

“Not particularly,” Raistlin griped, copying his twin then grabbing a length of leather to temporarily strap his staff to his back as he sometimes did for horse riding. “What’s their deal anyway? The Plainsmen.”

“Huh? What about them?” Caramon asked, looking over his shoulder as he hoisted himself into the first tree.

“Riverwind calls her Chieftain’s Daughter sometimes, yet they feared going to Qué-Shu to start with, suggesting they were cast out.”

“Oh. Well, from what I’ve heard, they were in love a while back, but Goldmoon’s father – the Chieftain – didn’t approve. Riverwind is basically a commoner while she’s like royalty. He was a shepherd, and so the Chieftain sent him on a task to seek out the old gods, thinking he’d fail or die. But basically if he found such a thing, he’d be allowed to marry Goldmoon.” Caramon was quiet for a moment as he navigated a particularly skinny set of roots. “I’m not quite sure of the rest, he only really confides in Tanis,” he said, “but I don’t think Riverwind realised that the staff would have to return, or he probably wouldn’t have taken it. He did it for love.”

“It’s still crappy reasoning,” Raistlin accused, crouching to help his staff avoid a low set of branches.

“Haven’t you ever done anything reckless for love?”

He thought about it. “Maybe, but love of magic, not a person. Unless following you on this ridiculous quest counts.” He kept his tone light, so Caramon would understand he wasn’t as angry as he might otherwise seem. He was annoyed about the situation, but he wasn’t dead yet and while he didn’t much like Tanis’s dithering and need to take charge, he had to admit, Caramon had found a nice group of friends. Even if they were the strangest collection of people Raistlin had ever had the misfortune of meeting.

As they traversed further into the swamp, a mist that had first added to the murky aura of the bog thickened, making travelling even slower and treacherous. Light was of little help and generally useless when it bounced around on his shoulder, often obscured by his hood, leaving Raistlin to quickly quench his staff’s glow. They could do nothing but make their way slowly one step at a time, talking to each other so the companions knew they hadn’t lost someone in the mist.

Raistlin discovered Tanis and Flint were old friends, the dwarf having known Tanis since he was a boy in Qualinost. Caramon had worked for a farmer for several years dragging ploughs in the morning and practising swords into the afternoons and evenings with Tanis and Sturm. At some point, Flint had adopted Tasslehoff to keep him out of trouble entirely by accident and the two had shared Flint’s home until five years ago where the companions had decided to go their separate ways not long after Caramon’s twentieth birthday.

“Kit broke up with Tanis the night before,” Caramon was saying. “I think the whole packing up and leaving thing was her idea, but it was also an out Sturm had been looking for. He’d wanted to go back to Solamnia ever since he left, and now that he was alone and officially an adult, all the more reason. But having a travelling companion is always safer, and having Kit is perfect since she’s so good with a sword and has loads of contacts.”

“Where did you go during that time?” Raistlin wondered.

“To an old friend of Kit’s. He was part of a mercenary group. Once I told them who sent me they welcomed me in with a smack on the back and ordered me an ale,” he chuckled. “I did jobs with them for about three years then the next summer I was having the time of my life in Southern Ergoth with a girl called Elonya.”

“And you’re not still there because of a pact you made with this lot?” Raistlin raised his eyebrow in surprise.

Caramon laughed. “No, I’m not still there because Elonya had a husband called Denrick who was twice my size and girth and said he’d squash me under his foot if he found me tasting his wife again. I didn’t know,” he added hastily. “She started flirting with me and I just assumed she wasn’t attached.”

“I’m no better, brother,” Raistlin assured with a grin. “I’ve actively removed wedding bands from my bed-partners before.”

He could hear the scandalised tone in Caramon’s voice as he squeaked, “Raist!”

“What? They consented.”

Caramon didn’t reply and Raistlin almost walked into his back before realising the group had stopped. Peeking over his brother’s shoulder, Raistlin saw the mist had come to an end, but that didn’t help them as the trees were also at an end, leaving only murky still water.

“Now what?” he asked, hooking an arm around Caramon to steady himself. Peering over the taller twin’s shoulder involved Raistlin either wobbling on his tiptoes to see or standing higher on a slim tree root and partially on the trunk, trusting his weight to a wizened branch overhead. Caramon however, was large enough to hook an arm rather securely around his tree and barely shifted when Raistlin leaned on him.

“Now this way,” Riverwind said grimly, pointing. A ways off, there appeared to be a bridge leading from one tree to another made out of vines.

“That _cannot_ be safe,” the mage mumbled in horror.

“Ooh, that’s clever!” Tas noted, bounding over with the skill of a monkey in a jungle. “Who made them?”

“I have no idea, but they are sturdier than you might expect and appear any time the path seems impossible,” Riverwind answered. Caramon and Raistlin exchanged a glance, the same question in each brother’s eyes: _Coincidence or trap_?

“We’re definitely following someone else’s path,” Caramon accepted softly, following along at the back of the group with Raistlin.

“The question is, who lead Riverwind here?” Raistlin responded eerily. “If Xak Tsaroth is not abandoned then we would do well to avoid being spotted.”

“Not much we can do about it if there’s only one route in and out,” Caramon shrugged. “And I’d rather not stray in case there’s more of those snakes.”

Reluctantly, Raistlin agreed, following the instruction passed back through the line: travel one at a time over the bridge. The bridge rocked and swayed with each step, its rungs slimy, coated in damp moss that didn’t feel safe, their hands slipping and sliding while each step was slow and clunking. On the other side, Flint was green and bent double, hands on his knees, breathing laboured. Tanis gently nudged the dwarf once the last of them were over the bridge. They moved on with little chatter as the sense of being watched started to prickle the senses like a dark cloud arching over them. Four more bridges they crossed, each passably sturdy but not something Raistlin wanted to keep encountering. It had been hours and his heart was so far up his throat he expected to choke on it before something actually happened to warrant his anxiety.

After midday the landscape finally took pity on them, the ground began to get firmer, less watery, and slightly less smelly. Tanis, finding a large oak tree that looked healthy enough for his sensibilities, called them to rest. They ate a small lunch and Tanis fettered from person to person checking they were well, lingering on Flint and Tas a moment.

Sitting by the twins, Sturm turned to Raistlin who was looking off into the distance. “Do you see something, Raistlin?”

The mage shook his head, “No, I’d feel better if I did.”

“I don’t suppose your Sight could tell us where the end of this damn swamp is,” Caramon huffed, looking around them at the little patch of land they could see. It seemed they had travelled uphill at some point, which allowed them to rest in this pocket of cleanish air on solid ground but the mist was coming in again leaving only grayish bare branches jutting out of pockets of mist. Anyone and anything could be waiting and they had only Riverwind’s word that this was the correct path.

Not that anyone voiced their doubt in Riverwind.

“I can’t see through the mist at this moment any better than you, dear brother,” Raistlin sighed, coughing. Caramon looked at him in concern, but held back on asking if Raistlin was okay. The miasma had lessened but wasn’t gone, and it caught in everyone’s throat despite most of them covering their mouths in one way or another.

When they got moving again it was downhill back into more wetland and stench, the respite from it too brief for the humans and Tanis, who had begun lagging due to a headache. The dwarf and kender however were in practically joyous spirits. One might have thought they were drunk they were so jolly, and privately, that’s exactly what Raistlin thought, seeing a glint of silver between the two shorter men that definitely wasn’t Flint’s axe handle catching the dim afternoon light. They were getting ahead of the group, despite the fact Riverwind was the only one who knew where they were going.

“Why are they laughing?” Caramon wondered, frowning at the pair.

“I believe Tas was doing an impression of me,” Raistlin shrugged, catching the odd word that floated back to them.

“I’ll box his ears,” Caramon huffed.

Raistlin waved him off. “It’s fine. You’d be better saving your energy for any of the draconians Riverwind mentioned were here when he was.”

Slightly behind them, Tanis swore. “Can anyone see Tas or Flint?” the half-elf asked, looking around. Looking around them, Raistlin saw that Tasslehoff and Flint were no longer visible, more mist had closed in, not helping the fact the two had already been quite far ahead.

As if to confirm Tanis’s worst fears, Tas’s voice called through the mist, “Tanis, ambush!”

Tanis swore again, unsheathing his sword. “Raistlin, can you find them?”

“I’m a mage not a divining rod,” he hissed acidly. “They didn’t sound too far ahead.”

“Then what use are you?” Tanis demanded hotly, shoving past the unhelpful mage and harrying after his friends. Raistlin made an angry flap of his hands but joined the other humans pursuing Tas, Flint and Tanis.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it, Raist,” Caramon mumbled as they jogged into the unknown.

“And I’m sure he did, but it’s not worth dwelling on.”

Caramon and the others stopped dead as they broke through the mist into the clearing where Tas and Flint had been, a large log bridge stretching out before them with four draconians and the kender on it. Tas raised his hoopak in defence, and Flint was nowhere to be seen.

Hearing words of magic, Raistlin’s eyes widened. Dodging around his companions with the grace of a cat, arcane words left his own lips in a flurry. Raising his hands bolts of energy shot from his fingers, striking erratically at the draconians and the log, one knocking Tas into the water accidentally.

Unfortunately, the draconian got his spell off anyway, causing thick and sudden darkness to envelop the area.

“I can’t see!” Tanis flapped, the magical darkness robbing him of his elven sight.

“Neither can they, run!” Raistlin ordered, grunting in pain as something smacked into his ribs. Stumbling back he breathed in sharply through his nose. Sight was lost to him and smell not much better in the fetid air, but he could hear the guttural chant of the draconians using magic again, the spell a familiar one. “Shit, sleep spell!” he warned, hoping someone might be able to remain awake. His head swam but through it all, brief clarity flashed. He could see the draconians approaching, knew Goldmoon to be to his left.

His hand shot out and seized her arm before shoving her towards where Tas had fallen in the water, another quick spell of his own providing the barest of cover. The last thing he processed before slumping to the ground was a splash. He prayed that meant they had escaped.

* * *

Goldmoon cried out as she was suddenly shoved towards the water, slipping on the bank and falling in. She swam to the surface, coughed and spluttered before something grabbed her leg and dragged her under just as a draconian looked over the side of the log.

Twisting and kicking, she booted whatever had grabbed her in the face and prepared to punch an orange thing that had latched onto her arm, pausing only when she realised it was Tasslehoff she was about to sock. Tas jabbed his finger at the other creature, which turned out to be an unconscious Flint, then towards the bank. Grabbing Flint under his armpits she kicked her feet and swam, the three surfacing some distance from the bridge where they could see what was going on while hidden by long grass.

Everyone was unconscious from the look of it, slumped and unmoving as they were. More draconians than they had first seen marched across the bridge, checking everyone was knocked out, one kicking Raistlin in the head for good measure before they started picking up weapons and binding the arms and legs of the others before carrying them away. Tas had to smother a snort as one draconian tried to touch Raistlin’s staff only to jump back with a hiss. The next one to touch it seemed to trigger a spell of some kind for the ground below the staff suddenly sparked with fire. Growling what must have been curses in their own tongue, two draconians stomped the fire out before one tried wrapping his hand in Raistlin’s outer cloak. The staff seemed content enough with the compromise that it didn’t react and allowed it to be dragged off along with its master.

The draconians marched away after one last look around for anyone they had missed. Blessedly, Flint waited until the drama was over before he came around with a loud groan.

“Urgh, my head,” he grumbled. “What happened?”

“You fell from the log and bumped your head on the bottom,” Tas insisted before Goldmoon could speak.

“Oh. I don’t remember that. What about the dragger-mo-whatsits?”

“They’ve taken our friends,” Goldmoon said sadly, her arms still looped around Flint. Noticing this, the dwarf blushed and found her hand to pat gently.

“We’ll rescue them,” he consoled. “How did they take everyone down so quickly? And how did you not escape, Goldmoon?”

“Raistlin mentioned something about a sleep spell. That must have been what took them. There was a darkness too, it stopped anyone from fighting. As to why I’m here, someone pushed me into the water,” Goldmoon sighed, “At least the staff is safe.” Her gaze lingered on the plain looking thing that was causing so much strife. Using the butt of said staff to help pull herself out of the water, she looked to the two men. “Have you both got weapons?”

Tas raised his hoopak with a wave. Flint felt around his person and pulled out a small dagger, frowning. “I could have sworn I had an axe. And where’s my helmet?!”

“I’m not jumping back into the water to look for them,” Tas told the dwarf flatly. Goldmoon didn’t much fancy looking either.

Huffing, Flint shook his head. “Whatever, a knife will do, I’ll just take a weapon off of the next draconian we take down. What a mess.”

“At least the smell of the water will cover our scent while we track the draconians,” said Goldmoon.

Heading towards the direction the draconians had gone, Tas was able to make out the tracks of the lizardmen, leading them across fairly solid terrain. A well frequented path, the wild grass stomped flat by regular patrols.

“There must be a camp nearby,” deduced Goldmoon. She took charge to have them skirt the edge of the camp when they found it, using the many cheers of the draconians for cover. It was a relatively simple camp with little wooden structures on an ancient cobbled floor and a bonfire in the centre. What was less simple was the dirty great dragon just sitting there as though it owned the place.

The three stared in horror and wonder at the great beast, almost forgetting why they were there.

“What are we supposed to do about _that_?!” Flint hissed.

“It looks kind of boring for a dragon,” Tas noted, staring at the mythical creature come to life while Goldmoon tore her eyes away from the creature, spotting a cage of bamboo to the back. “There, I see them!” Expecting the two to follow, Goldmoon snuck around to the cage. However at that moment, Tasslehoff bounded off towards the dragon instead.

* * *

Raistlin felt like shit on a hot summer’s day. He could hear movement around him but opening his eyes provided him with a blurred mess of information coupled with a violent urge to throw up. Not that closing his eyes helped much either. His head was pounding, his limbs were on fire and his right eye was being of no help, assaulting his vision with some uselessness of a draconian weaving. Groaning weakly, Raistlin tried to bury into his forearm and find blissful unconsciousness again.

“Raist?” Raistlin willed his arm to move, Caramon catching his hand and squeezing it tight. “Thank the gods you’re okay!”

He wasn’t, but he couldn’t find his voice to tell Caramon that. A hand pushed at his sore ribs drawing a strangled cry from his lungs and making him tense up. Above him, he could hear Caramon and Sturm, their voices both too loud and distorted. “Blood… Looks bad… Poison.”

A hand was on his back, rubbing soothing circles while the voices talked more. Paying attention was painful, but as the draconian in his mind’s eye grew clearer, Raistlin forced himself to focus on the here and now, lest he be trapped in the vision.

“What’s… happening?” he asked, every syllable a struggle, forcing his eyes open and finding Caramon above him. The draconian continued to weave in his peripheral, but Raistlin did his damnedest not to focus on it.

“We were knocked out and taken to the draconian camp,” Caramon explained. “Tas, Flint and Goldmoon aren’t here through, we think they escaped.” Expression darkening he added, “You’re hurt pretty bad, Raist.”

He felt the urge to cough. Forcing himself into a position where he could get air into his lungs, Raistlin hacked, feeling as though his chest was ripping apart with each cough. Slumping, every breath a wheeze and his chest on fire, Raistlin ignored how Caramon cradled him like a broken ragdoll in favour of listening to the conversation between Tanis and Sturm.

“There’s a deep wound in his side, it’s been bleeding for some time,” explained Sturm, “We didn’t notice at first because of his red robes. Riverwind suspects poison.”

“What about everyone else?”

“We’re fine. It seems Raistlin in particular was targeted.”

His stomach clenched at that moment so hard that bile rose and unable to swallow the flow, Raistlin vomited, drawing the attention of their guards who laughed.

“What have you done to him?!” Caramon roared at the still chuckling draconians.

“The poison works swiftly doesn’t it?” one leered. “He won’t be making magic in a hurry again.”

Everything went dark for Raistlin. When he came to enough of his senses to rouse, Raistlin found himself curled in Sturm’s arms, shivering despite feeling entirely too warm.

He flickered his gaze to the knight, tried to ask where Caramon was but garble left his mouth. Looking down at him, Sturm shook his head. “Rest. You threw up blood and have a high fever, you need to conserve your strength.”

He wanted to speak, to ask what was happening, to find his brother, but his vision blurred and his body jerked against his wishes drawing a pained whimper from the mage. Letting out a shuddering breath, Raistlin forced himself to try again. “Cammon…”

Sturm looked perhaps sadder at the feeble attempt. “Caramon has been taken to the dragon.”

Dragon? What dragon? He wanted to ask, instead Raistlin whimpered and curled in on himself more as pain flared and his sight of this world was lost to the ridiculous one of a draconian painting wicker. Is that what they did in their off-hours? Crafts?

“My brother is dying! At least let me die fighting!” he heard Caramon shout.

A voice screeched back, “This will be fun!” _If that was the dragon, it sounded suspiciously high pitched_ , Raistlin thought, the world going black again.

* * *

“Raistlin? Raistlin!” Sturm called, shaking the mage, “Tanis!”

“What’s going on Sturm?” the half-elf asked, kneeling beside the two.

“He stopped breathing.”

A voice from behind the cage called softly, “Let me see.”

The two men whipped around their eyes blowing wide. “Goldmoon!” Crunching twigs sounded not too far away. Keeping watch for whoever was approaching as well as looking between the guards who were blessedly distracted by the dragon while Goldmoon pushed Raistlin’s sweat drenched hair back from his face to better assess him, Tanis sagged with relief when Flint appeared at Goldmoon’s side. “You three take Raistlin and get out of here, Riverwind and I will figure out a way of getting Caramon from the dragon,” Tanis started.

“I don’t know that I’d worry too much about that,” Flint said lowly. “The dragon is made of wicker. Tasslehoff is inside making it flap and speak. He’ll get Caramon out of there somehow.”

“But there’s got to be at least a hundred draconians to worry about!” Tanis pressed. Goldmoon’s staff shone, the two draconian guards turned. Riverwind punched one as hard as he could, felling it. He turned to the other only for it to fall to the ground and slowly turn to stone. Jutting out of its forehead was a dagger shaped like a dragon.

“Ninety-eight,” Raistlin corrected with a rasp, hand flopping back into his lap. He looked horribly pale still but his visible blue eye shone with life, chest fluttering like a bird’s wings. The moment of strength passed barely a few seconds later, the mage’s eye slipping shut, laboured breathing evening out.

The five stared between Raistlin and the dead draconian a moment, trying to accept that the mage of all people had landed a death-blow in the seconds between being dead and revived. Particularly since from Sturm’s view, Tanis looked to have been blocking much of the bonfire light needed to aim his throw.

“Wizards,” Flint shuddered. As though that answer was enough, Tanis, Goldmoon and Sturm sagged. Riverwind wiggled the dagger until it became free and smashed the hilt into the other draconian to make sure it was dead before holding the blade toward Tanis in question.

“Leave it with the mage and go get your own weapons,” advised Flint. “Tas has a plan, believe it or not.”

“I’ll take Raistlin into the forest,” Sturm elected, shifting to his feet. Raistlin was already in his arms anyway, and he wasn’t overly heavy.

Tanis nodded, “Alright, I’ll get your sword. Flint, with us. Goldmoon, stay with Raistlin and Sturm. They’ll need protection and your staff can hurt the draconians just as well as it heals us.”

The three nodded, went their separate ways, though Riverwind looked over his shoulder at Goldmoon longingly before following Tanis towards Caramon.

“The camp is on fire,” Goldmoon said, turning when she realised the light was stronger than before.

Sturm groaned, “It’s the kender. He’s beating the wings too hard.” The more the dragon’s wings flapped, the more embers and sparks flew from the bonfire onto the draconian’s surrounding huts. “Come on, we need to put some distance between ourselves and the blaze.”

Loud cracks sounded through the night air and the fire exploded in size behind them. Turning, Sturm caught sight of the dragon falling, wings stretched out as if to fly, head-first into the bonfire, showering the camp in dozens of tiny fireballs.

Stopping at the nearest tree, Sturm crouched and leant Raistlin against the trunk so he could shake the man’s shoulder. “Raistlin, Raistlin you need to wake up!” He continued to shake the mage until groggy blue found his brown eyes.

“I think I’m going to be sick again if you keep rattling me,” Raistlin shot, reaching for the knife in his lap with trembling fingers.

Ignoring the jab, Sturm asked, “Can you stand? The camp’s on fire.”

“What the fuck?” Raistlin said instead, looking over Sturm’s shoulder. At that same moment, Goldmoon let out a shriek. Turning, Sturm’s eyes widened in terror and surprise as it looked like the dragon’s head was scurrying towards them, its blue tongue flicking hungrily.

Raistlin started to giggle hysterically, the sound high pitched and breathy. Another, longer look at the dragon showed Caramon and Riverwind to be flanking the head of the dragon, whose tongue was actually made of two short legs covered in blue leggings. Tasslehoff’s leggings. Flint ran over to the group, looked around.

“Where’s Tanis? The doorknob’s stuck in the dragon.”

“Here! What the-!”

“Tasslehoff’s stuck,” Caramon repeated, dropping his half of the dragon once he saw Raistlin, Tas and Riverwind crying out in surprise as they toppled, the head too heavy for just Riverwind to carry on his own.

“Raist!”

Slumped against the tree Raistlin shot his twin a weak grin, wincing as Caramon hugged him fiercely. “I, I thought you were… I thought I was going to lose you again,” Caramon blubbered. Sturm turned his head as tears fell from Caramon’s cheeks.

“I’m alright, but you need to let go,” Raistlin urged. “Sturm said the camp’s on fire. We need to go.” Pulling back reluctantly, Caramon watched as Raistlin tried to pull himself up to his feet and almost toppled head over arse back to the ground. “Where’s my staff?” he asked sinking back onto his bottom.

Tanis came over, holding out the staff to Raistlin. “Here. Are you going to be alright with it?”

Raistlin rubbed a hand over his face before reaching for the wood. “Ish. I need a hand up,” he admitted, gritting his teeth as Caramon helped him to his feet. He flopped back against the tree, though remained standing.

“We need to hurry, before the draconians organise themselves!” Tanis called, getting the group’s attention. He looked at the twins. “Can you manage?” Caramon looked to Raistlin who clung to his staff but nodded.

Caramon reached out to offer Raistlin support, “We’ll find a way.”


	5. A Harrowing Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long update gap and short chapter compared to the rest. I needed to double check some things with the next couple of chapters to make sure I wouldn't contradict myself here.

He was cursed, Raistlin decided. Or someone in this group was. It seemed like every day lately he could neither sleep well nor have a full day’s meals without throwing up at least once. Goldmoon’s staff may have healed him from the poison, but it had done nothing for the blood he had lost or the bone deep exhaustion the mage was feeling. He knew they couldn’t stop though, Caramon urged him on with soft words and pulls at his arm while alarm horns blared around them. They were being hunted and likely every draconian in the area knew there were intruders in Xak Tsaroth now.

They trekked through the dark with Riverwind once again in the lead. No one dared light a torch, nor did Raistlin light his staff for fear of being seen. Every flicker of movement that wasn’t from them had the group on edge, worried that they were going to be surrounded and set upon. All that happened though was that they ended up stuck in an area where the only way forward was through thick mud. At least, Raistlin hoped it was mud. He didn’t want to investigate.

The others checked for the shallowest path, but that soon became dangerously deep for Tasslehoff who Tanis then carried, and Flint who was helmet high in the muck before he admitted to needing help in the form of Caramon carrying him over his shoulder with ease.

Seeing Raistlin lag behind, Sturm pulled the mage’s arm around his shoulders and wrapped a hand around Raistlin to keep him moving, though more than once Raistlin went completely limp, passing out on his feet only to shock awake and manage several more steps before sagging again.

“We need to stop,” Sturm insisted once they were free of the muck.

A chill air blew through the haggard trees, a damp smell on the air. “Oh fuck off,” Raistlin whimpered, looking up at the sky from the half-wall Sturm had left him at. “Storm clouds.”

“We need shelter,” Tanis declared.

“We need rid of that staff,” Raistlin challenged, dragging his feet under him. “Riverwind, how far?”

“Not much. I think.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” the mage muttered to himself, shuffling along as the others rose again. “Which might be in an hour.”

Sturm rolled his eyes, “Well if the weather doesn’t kill us, the environment might. Is your wound sealed?” he added, words sharp with worry.

“Bit late now if it’s not,” Raistlin shrugged. “I haven’t looked and that water got up high enough to seep in if it’s still open.” He sighed. His chest still hurt, but then, everything hurt and it was only the burning desire to live that gave Raistlin the strength to put one foot in front of the other.

“If you wore white we’d have noticed sooner,” Sturm said causing Raistlin to snort.

“If I wore white I probably wouldn’t be here. All the white robes seem to be ponces with well-to-do jobs and wives. Antimodes would have eaten his hat if he saw what my robes looked like now.” The talking was a nice distraction though, particularly since Raistlin was a hairsbreadth from breaking down into tears when more vile water blocked their way.

“We don’t have to wade again,” assured Riverwind pointing, “There’s an obelisk in the water this way.”

Tanis and Riverwind led the group along the expanse of stone, but it was Tas that drew them to a stop, crouching on the obelisk and running his hand over the stone. “Hey, there’s words on this!”

“Words?” asked Caramon. “Don’t these things normally just have pictures on?”

“Not all the time,” Raistlin shrugged, his arm around Sturm again for support.

“Maybe the words can give us some direction?” Goldmoon suggested. “We can’t read them in the dark though.”

Tanis frowned, “If we make a light the draconians will see us.”

“In the mists?” Caramon challenged, “They haven’t spotted us yet.”

Tanis sighed, “I can see the words with my elven-sight, but I don’t know the language. It looks ancient.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t say something useful like ‘draconains that way’ with a big arrow,” Raistlin mocked.

“If you don’t start being less of a pain, _mage_ -,” started Flint.

“Flint, quiet,” ordered Caramon. “We’re all tired and at the end of our wits. No fighting.” Turning to Raistlin, he added, “If you could try not to antagonise anyone, brother, I would be thankful.”

“Sorry, brother,” Raistlin said at length. Sturm gave Raistlin’s wrist a sympathetic squeeze. Looking to him, Raistlin made out the knight’s expression drawing into a tight line.

The group, abandoning the obelisk’s writing, got moving again and entered a ruined city wrapped in thick jungle. Vines clung to any stone they found, enveloping and seeming to try to devour the remains of houses and walkways.

Above, the storm clouds brewed stronger, a heavy rain would soon be upon them. However, none of the buildings they had passed so far provided adequate enough shelter, Riverwind confirming that they would likely flood with how the ground was sloping.

“The centre and the place where I took the staff isn’t too far from here,” he said softly. “The weather may hold.”

Sturm shook Raistlin gently, the mage slumped into his shoulder, sleeping while standing up. Or trying to. “Not far now.”

“He keeps saying that,” Raistlin whispered back, careful that Caramon and Riverwind didn’t hear the complaint.

“I know, but the clouds haven’t broken with rain yet,” Sturm soothed. Their place was slow with Raistlin leaning on Sturm just as much as his staff, each step like a lance of agony particularly when every time the group paused to inspect a building Raistlin’s exhaustion stole him off into a doze. The brief moments of sleep didn’t help his state, wearing him down more instead of resting him. Thankfully though, jungle gave way to brick, the more civilized area not yet overrun by nature.

The silver moon, Solinari, provided some light as it peaked out of clouds in the east revealing more ruins; pillars stood tall while the buildings they had been made to support lay broken and pillaged on the ground. The companions came into a courtyard at the centre of which seemed to be a wide span of wall just taller than a kender. Caramon went over to it and returned to inform them it looked like a deep, stinky well.

“The water’s probably gone off,” Sturm shrugged.

Looking around, Raistlin pointed to a structure a bit further off. “That building is intact is it not?”

Tasslehoff hummed. “It has a roof and everything.” It also seemed to glow under Solinari’s light, giving off a white, almost holy light. “I wonder why it’s not beaten up at all? Even the gold doors are still there.”

“I believe the temples in the old days used to have golden doors,” Sturm noted. “Perhaps this is the one to Mishakal that the Forestmaster mentioned?”

“Maybe.” Raistlin turned his head as Goldmoon started towards the temple. Tanis gave the command to scout, but Goldmoon didn’t change her course and Raistlin couldn’t keep awake any longer. He slumped down by the well, took a shaky breath and prayed nothing else was going to attack them this night.

As if to answer his prayers with the negative, a wave of dread overcame Raistlin, its source coming from below the ground. Ice filled his veins like someone had poured a bucket of chill water down his back, washing away his tiredness, leaving his senses frayed but very much awake.

“Dragonian!” Tas yelled in warning, pointing to Raistlin’s right. Gripping his staff low to the base, Raistlin swung as he rose from the ground, missing as the beast jumped backward into the void of the well.

Tanis and Tasslehoff ran over, watching the draconian glide into the darkness below without batting its wings. Raistlin could barely glance over the edge before stumbling back, the source of the dread from before shifting as he looked into the well, as if it knew he was aware of it.

Tanis and Tasslehoff were talking but Raistlin couldn’t hear the words over his heart beating in his ears.

“Raist? Are you okay? You’re pale.” Caramon’s large hand settled on his shoulder. He needed to call out to Raistlin again and repeat the question before the mage came back to his senses.

“There’s something else in that well. We need to get away.”

“Raist?”

Raistlin gripped Caramon’s forearm tightly. “Can’t you sense it? Something is below ground,” he whispered. “Something terrifying.”

“You’re tired,” Caramon dismissed. “We’ll rest soon. Probably in that temple if we can bar the doors.”

“I was tired,” Raistlin agreed. “I am not anymore.” He looked up into Caramon’s eyes, his gaze clear. “I mean it, Caramon. There is something down there.”

Caramon’s pursed his lips, his eyebrows creased in disbelief, but he looked to the well with concern. He started towards the well as tremors from below shook the ground violently. Stumbling, Caramon saw the ground cracking near the well, “Tas, Tanis, run!”

The ground flexed and bowed, the half-elf grabbed the kender around his middle and raced away from the well. Sturm, Riverwind and Flint flocked back to the group at Caramon’s cry. Looking around the Plainsman called for Goldmoon while the rest of them watched the well collapse in on itself, widening the hole in the ground.

“What happened?” Sturm demanded of Raistlin as the mage turned, grabbed his arm and ordered the dwarf to back off as the ground continued to crumble, Tanis and Caramon joining them in the retreat.

“The ground’s collapsing!” Tanis cried, vaulting over a knee high pile of rubble in his haste.

“Something’s coming up!” Raistlin yelled over the sound of stones crashing together and falling. Cold wind swept around, whipping against the companions, and centring above the black void of the collapsed well, drawing up the acrid smell and spreading it across the courtyard.

Raistlin was suddenly struck with the realisation that the smell wasn’t that of stagnant water, it was the smell of acid. “Dragon,” he told Sturm, choking on the word as he breathed in the tainted air.

“What?” the knight yelled, not hearing the mage over the shrillest noise they had ever heard echoing through the night, freezing both men in fear where he and Raistlin hid behind a pillar. Their eyes met, each seeing the other white as a sheet, sweat beading their foreheads, trembling from head to toe. A dark shadow blotted out the stars and the moon as it rose into the sky. Somewhere, Riverwind called for his love, Goldmoon.

Sturm rose his gaze to the sky, looked upon the dragon with wide eyes that might pop from their sockets. Unbidden, Raistlin’s right eye showed the mage the same sight. Black as the night itself, the dragon unfurled its wings, lashed its tongue and looked at the ground below, looking for the intruders with red eyes that glittered in the night; its clawed feet shining like perfectly polished blades under the moonlight.

“We’re going to die,” Sturm breathed.

“Someone is,” Raistlin agreed, his gaze locking in on Riverwind, the only one of the group not under or behind any sort of cover as the dragon opened its maw. Rising into the air before diving down, the shrill roar paralysed the mortals again, and the dragon released its acid breath over Riverwind, the smell of burning flesh and the Plainsman’s screaming up there with watching Randal curse the Palanthas Tower in Raistlin’s list of worst experiences.

The mage startled violently from the vision as Sturm’s hand fumbled into his own, clinging to it like a lifeline. Raistlin’s clammy fingers squeezed back, coughing as the smell of the Plainsman’s acid-drenched corpse wafted over to them.

“We need to move!” Sturm urged, though made no move to leave their pillar.

Beside him, Raistlin forced himself to take slow breaths, trying not to choke on the air as he did, and focused on the dragon. They had to get to cover, or the dragon would kill them, already it was gaining air for another pass. He shut his left eye to lessen distractions, hand tightening around Sturm’s. There was an outcrop of rubble to the west where a wall had collapsed and landed on another section of stone, creating a small amount of shelter Raistlin was fairly sure they could huddle under without being seen unless the dragon landed. He looked at the path, looked at the dragon. They needed to go… _now_!

Yanking hard on Sturm’s arm, Raistlin ran, pulling the knight along, stopped suddenly, shoving him against a tree trunk, arm shooting up to cover Sturm’s mouth to stop any questions. Raistlin took a breath as the dragon passed by. He pulled Sturm around the tree, the thin smattering of leaves hopefully enough to protect them from a passing glance.

Running again Raistlin’s lungs burned, his mind not within his body as they raced around the outer edge of the courtyard seemingly erratically until they reached their destination. Sturm dropped into a skid, sliding under the stone through the gap, arms snaking out to help the mage hide, Raistlin needing to contort himself to fit inside the small space alongside Sturm and their weapons and packs. The smell wasn’t great, Raistlin’s face was shoved into Sturm’s muddy trouser leg, his own legs tucked awkwardly under him, his pelvis feeling seconds from snapping in two.

Anxiously, they waited. And waited. Dark spots were dancing in Raistlin’s vision by the time it was deemed safe, Tanis calling softly for his friends. Raistlin’s legs had long fallen asleep and one knee had locked, preventing any attempt from the mage at leaving the space.

They were eventually discovered by Tas, who employed Caramon’s help in freeing them from the tiny hidey hole, Raistlin hissing in discomfort all the while, poking and prodding at the back of his knee, trying to get the joint to co-operate.

“No one said anything about dragons,” Caramon muttered, pale and clammy. “They’re supposed to be gone with the gods.”

“If one’s back, maybe the other is too,” Raistlin said softly, pointedly avoiding looking at the area where Riverwind, what was left of him, lay. Tanis went over to see the decay of melted stone, seared flesh.

“Did… did this dragon attack Qué-Shu?” the half-elf asked, his voice breaking mid-sentence. He fell to his knees just on the edge of the acid, tears slipping down his face.

“I… I couldn’t do anything,” Sturm mumbled brokenly, eyes on the ground.

Flint stomped over to them slowly, trying not to make too much noise. Beside him, Tas looked around. “I wasn’t scared,” he declared, though did not necessarily look like he’d convinced himself of that.

The sound of vomiting echoed across the courtyard, though for once it wasn’t Raistlin emptying his stomach, it was Tanis. Getting up, Caramon went over to put a hand on Tanis shoulder, check he was okay, while Riverwind was now lost.

Raistlin sagged, doubling over somewhat as the adrenalin and pain gave way to more exhaustion, leaving the mage feeling heady. He breathed in too deeply, the taste of burned bones causing him to fall into a fit of coughing as he tried to clear his airways. “Should we… try the… the temple now?” he rasped, struggling to turn his head in the direction of the building with golden doors. He blinked and pressed his knuckles into his eyes tried to rub them and check he was seeing the world as it was. The temple door had opened.

“Was that door open before?” asked Tas, seeing the same thing. “It must have been heavy to move.”

Tanis and the others looked over just in time to see Goldmoon exit the temple, looking serene. She practically glided towards Tanis, her hair fluttering like liquid gold behind her, though her gaze was on the puddle upon which a skeleton with still beating organs and a twitching foot once called Riverwind lay.

Caramon, his sword in hand swallowed thickly. “Goldmoon. He… he still lives, he’s in pain…” he stammered, weakly raising his sword. “I…”

“Stop,” she said calmly. “That is not needed.”

Tanis shook his head, wiping more tears from his cheeks. “I don’t think even the staff can fix this, my lady. It would be kinder to kill him.”

Goldmoon’s gaze hardened. “No.”

“Tanis, listen to her. Riverwind belongs to her, not you,” Raistlin said with as much conviction as he could manage. When he looked at Goldmoon, she wasn’t crying, didn’t seem in the least perturbed in fact. It was as if a great calm had overcome her, and the same soft white glow of the temple walls seemed to come off of her skin as she moved, kneeling by Riverwind.

“Come, my love,” she urged him softly. “Stand, come into the temple, there is much work to be done.”

“Goldmoon, he _can’t_ -” Tanis began brokenly, trying to spare himself some agony if nothing else. But then Riverwind’s skeletal hand rose and as Goldmoon’s fingers cupped around it, the skin that had once been seared off started stitching itself back together. She brought the now flesh-covered hand to her lips, kissed it softly, speaking the language of her people in a manner not unlike a melody, as if she were serenading Riverwind back to this world. Soft blue-white light blanketed the pair and Tanis and the others watched in awe as the man who had been little more than a corpse a minute ago was now flesh and bone before them. Even the feathers in Riverwind’s hair had reformed, his clothes too, looking new and clean.

Though questions were being asked and tears of happiness spilled, the Plainsmen had only eyes for each other, Riverwind’s huge arms quickly circling Goldmoon and pulling her close, breathing in her scent and calming himself that they were together once again.

Though she held him just as fiercely, Goldmoon broke the embrace to pull on Riverwind’s hand with urgency. “My love, we must move to the temple. We will be safe there.”

“How did-? Without the staff!” Tanis flapped.

“Later,” Goldmoon said. “To the temple, I’ll explain once we are safe.”

* * *

The temple was a smaller building than it had seemed from so far away. It boasted high ceilings, but had only a main hall, two small prayer chambers either side and two circular rooms branching off from the back of the hall where Raistlin assumed priests had once lived. Where an altar would normally go in a church, there stood a statue of a woman; a depiction of Mishakal, the goddess of healing. He flopped down on a section of pew that had not been overcome by rot or moss, half-listening to Goldmoon’s tale. Essentially, she claimed to have been hearing the voice of her dead mother, or perhaps the Goddess Mishkal using the voice of her dead mother to contact Goldmoon and draw her into the temple before the dragon attack. They had spoken about the next leg of their journey, where there was in fact, no one waiting for them, and they had apparently more journeying to do.

“The Disks of Mishakal lie somewhere below the city in the dragon’s lair, where she guards them,” Goldmoon was saying, “With them we can bring back the strength of the gods of good, use their powers to fight darkness as I healed Riverwind just now.”

“It can’t really be that easy, can it?” asked Tanis, still shell-shocked from what he had just witnessed.

“If you call having a run in with a dragon easy, Tanis, then I am very concerned,” Raistlin said from his seat, picking away his dirty robes from his skin to check his chest wound had been sealed, the Staff of Magius’s crystal glowing with light from where it leant against the pew in front.

“Speaking of, what possessed you to run, Raist?” asked Caramon. “Or maybe, how did you? My legs were jelly.”

“We needed cover, otherwise I feared Sturm and I would end up like Riverwind.”

Sturm looked over to the mage. “Yes, but how? I hadn’t seen that crop of rubble had a gap under it until we were almost upon it. And the way you moved was like you knew where the dragon was looking.”

Raistlin sighed, not really wanting to get into this now. “I did know. It. It’s hard to explain and I’ll do a bad job of it more than likely.”

“Try us,” Caramon said without mirth. “It can’t be any more mad than dragons and healing miracles.”

Seeing the taught pink skin of a recently healed wound under the grime of mud, Raistlin let his robes fall back into place and ran his hands through his hair, pushing the long auburn locks back from the right side of his face, where his other pale blue eye resided in a perfectly normal looking face. No scars or obvious signs of illness or injury visible. “Though I possess the gift of Sight, it is not Foresight. I can see the present, though from many angles. When I was little, I could See with both eyes, but had no control.” He turned to look at Caramon. “The vision I had before I left Solace was of a man with Father falling from a tree and skewering himself on another, smaller tree.”

Caramon nodded, “So that’s why you were saying ‘he’s dead’ over and over. We thought you were hysterical. Sister Judith thought you had lost your mind and been possessed by a devil.”

“I might as well have been. The things she did to me while you weren’t in the room weren’t pleasant,” Raistlin said. His memories of that time were patchy, due to a high fever and the visions dragging away his consciousness, but he remembered foul drinks he could swear were poison and Judith swearing at him in stark contrast to the long hours where Caramon or Rosamun would hold his hand and beg him to return to them while wiping the sweat from his brow. Moving on, he continued, “When I went to the Tower in Waywreth, an archmage sealed the ability to my right eye, allowing me normal vision in my left. It hurts sometimes, but I was told that’s likely how my eye will be as my magic grows stronger, fighting against the spell the archmage used. Sometimes visions still get the better of me when I’m weakened, but in that moment with the dragon, I intentionally saw from her perspective, as well as looked around the area. I saw the rock and I saw a route to it that avoided the dragon’s line of sight.”

Tanis raised an eyebrow, “So that’s why you rub at it. Have you had any other visions? Purposeful or otherwise?”

“Nothing of use I don’t think,” Raistlin shrugged. “When I will them I can see things I desire, but the ones that take me over can be inane and I don’t imagine you’d be overly interested in every vision I’ve ever had.”

“I might if they are about draconians or dragons,” Tanis argued. “Can you find out where that dragon from earlier is?”

“Maybe, but not right now. I’ve used up too much magic, any more and when I sleep I might not wake.”

Tas blinked at him, “You’ll die? Just like that?”

“No, I’ll fall into a vision and eventually die like my mother, unless I somehow find a way out of it.”

Caramon didn’t look too comforted by that idea. “Let’s let Raist sleep now. I want to avoid that if at all possible.” He looked at the Staff of Magius, “Do you need to deactivate the light?”

“The staff?” Raistlin turned his gaze to it. “It is a magical artefact and has its own magic that is restored after a day. Turning its light on and off doesn’t affect my strength. If you all want to use it while I rest, help yourselves.”

He shifted to lie down as Tas chirruped, “How come the dragonians couldn’t touch it? Can only wizards touch it?” Opening his eyes, Raistlin swatted Tas’s hand away from the staff.

“I’m told only wizards can wield it, but I think the staff is just picky. I’d appreciate _you_ not touching it all the same,” he said with a firm look at the kender.

“We’ll keep him away,” Caramon promised. “Just rest.”

While working in the Baron of Langtree’s army, Raistlin had learned to sleep wherever he could, whenever the opportunity allowed it. As such he could fall asleep rather quickly even when he wasn’t as bone-tired as he was now. Around him, Raistlin could hear the group moving around, examining the others rooms or talking. They were easy enough to block out, but he heard Caramon’s voice break though the haze of his mind.

“He’s hiding something, Tanis,” Caramon said softly, perhaps under the impression Raistlin was already asleep. “Dad came home a few days after Raistlin went into that vision. He never said anything about anyone dying.”

“Perhaps he was a bit preoccupied with Raistlin’s state?” Tanis suggested.

“No. The last time someone had died on a job was two summer’s before then. I remember because Kit and Dad had a fight about him going back to work because she didn’t want to be left looking after us and spoon-feeding mother in her trances. Especially because if he died that meant no one was bringing money home.”

Tanis was quiet a moment, probably scratching his beard thoughtfully. “Do you think whatever he’s hiding is important?”

“I don’t know. I think he’s hiding it for his own needs. He knows no one really likes mages and doesn’t want to be alienated further. But if that comes at the cost of trust anyway, is it worth it?”

“If you feel strongly about it, Caramon. Confront him. But don’t be upset if he tells you and you wished you hadn’t asked,” Tanis replied. “I can’t really say I’m comforted by the idea he can see what we’re doing, but if he can help us locate the dragon, I shan’t argue my privacy for the moment.”

“You make it sound like he’s got no morals!” Caramon hissed.

“He’s a mage, Caramon. As far as I care to know their whole system of what’s right and wrong is different to ours.”


	6. Playtime in the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know it's been forever, and tbh I have actually had this chapter read to go for some time, it was the following one causing me issues.
> 
> But that's over now and that one is currently being edited and I think we're back on track? Maybe? Eh, we'll see. I should at least be able to make it to a point where this stops being slow burn and I have a functioning couple in this fic XD

When Raistlin awoke the next morning, the Staff of Magius’s light had already winked out. He sat up slowly and looked around. Seeing no one up he reached into his pack, removing a chunk of bread to pick at while he read his spells.

Sometime later, the pew Raistlin was curled up on jolted as another sat down. Looking up, expecting Caramon, Raistlin was surprised to see Sturm offering him some strips of dried meat. “I don’t suppose you have a spell that turns dragons into rabbits?” the knight asked.

Reaching out with one hand, Raistlin took the jerky, “No, I’m afraid not. That would be one terrifying rabbit,” he added with a chuckle. Sturm’s hand remained in the air, piquing Raistlin’s curiosity.

Slowly, Sturm’s hand came up to Raistlin’s face. Holding back a flinch, Raistlin allowed Sturm to do as he wanted. Gently, calloused fingers pushed Raistlin’s hair behind his ear and looked into his right eye, which was now lacking its pupil and iris, as though they were obscured by a mist. “Can you not see through it?” the knight asked. “Regularly I mean.”

“Yes and no. My depth perception isn’t affected, and I can generally see. It just looks like I can’t.” Raistlin shrugged a shoulder. “If a vision comes, one eye sees the vision, the other the world in front of my face. It’s like if you sit in a window space and put your head to the wall. Looking one way you see inside the house and the other you can see the garden.”

Sturm nodded in understanding, then seeming to realise he and Raistlin had been staring into each other’s eyes for a while now, awkwardly excused himself to begin donning his armour.

“Raistlin,” called Tanis. “You said the other day it might be possible to use your magic to locate the dragon.”

“I did,” acknowledged the mage, turning to see Tanis and Riverwind with Goldmoon by the statue of Mishakal. “It would take time to contextualise though. Time we may not have if the dragon sends out its minions.”

“What do you mean, ‘contextualise’?” frowned Riverwind.

“I mean finding the dragon and finding it in relation to our own position are two different things. I’ve also never used my Sight underground before,” Raistlin admitted softly.

“I say we just forget it and go on as we would normally,” huffed Flint, ever distrustful of magic.

“But, Flint,” argued Sturm, “this is a dragon, not a band of goblins.”

“Sturm’s right, we need every advantage,” agreed Caramon.

Raistlin frowned, “Actually, I agree with the dwarf, I’d rather you didn’t rely on my Sight. It’s not something I’m used to and it might make us careless.”

“How so?” asked Tanis, head tilting in curiosity.

“Well, like my spells, it isn’t an infinite resource,” Raistlin explained, “And if we fell because I had not noticed something… Well. I wouldn’t want that.”

“You just don’t want to be blamed,” accused the dwarf with a jab of his finger. As it wasn’t entirely incorrect, Raistlin didn’t argue.

Caramon hummed, placing one hand on his chin. “Did the Baron know about your ability?” Seeing Raistlin nod, Caramon followed up with, “How did he utilise it?”

“The Baron would have me survey the battle field, particularly enemy formations and the lay of the land for any exploitable routes for surprise attack,” Raistlin replied. “They were always taken with a grain of salt and compared against scout reports.”

“Do you not trust your own ability?”

“It’s not that. It’s fine in the moment, but I worry about using it for forward planning. I don’t think that is what it is meant for.”

Flint snorted and looked away. “In that case, let’s stop wasting time and move on.”

“Still, it would be nice to have a map of this place,” mused Tasslehoff. “All mine are from before the Cataclysm.”

“Would you be able to plot that much?” asked Tanis.

Raistlin shrugged a shoulder. “I should be able to, but it will take a while. And I’m not a great cartographer.”

“I’ll help!” shouted Tas, thrusting his hand into the air.

Tanis nodded. “You two get on that while everyone else finishes breakfast and their preparations.”

Beckoning Raistlin to follow him, Tasslehoff found a flat section of floor then rifled through his pouches, coming up with a large sheet of parchment and a graphite stick. “Right… uhm… now… hmm…” the kender frowned, looking between Raistlin and the paper. “I’ve not done this before. Usually when I draw a map I’m in the place it’s drawn, you know?”

“I’ll try to be descriptive,” Raistlin sighed, sitting down opposite the kender.

“Can’t you just make me see the vision too?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried.”

“Why not?”

Raistlin gave Tas a sharp look. “Later. There’s a dragon looking for us now,” he hissed.

“Oh, yes. I suppose you’re right,” Tas sighed, looking down at the parchment in confusion again.

Taking pity on the kender, Raistlin pointed to the edge nearest Tas. “Let’s say here is the dragon. I’ll start there and work back.”

“You can do that?”

Raistlin hummed, “I’ve seen the dragon, so it’s a little easier than starting from us and trying to find the way to her. Alright. The dragon is with its hoard.”

“Ooh! Tell me about that!” implored Tas.

“No,” said Raistlin flatly. “Tanis wants the way to the dragon. Not what its bedroom looks like.” Ignoring Tas’s sad pout, Raistlin closed his left eye for a better look without distractions. The dragon’s chamber was a huge domed area that Raistlin hesitated to guess the size of, least of all because the dragon herself was pacing about the room in some sort of tizzy. Trusting that Goldmoon’s information from Mishakal was correct, Raistlin didn’t waste his time searching the huge pile of coins and other treasures looking for the Disks. Instead, he looked for an exit. “There’s two doors to the chamber,” he relayed to Tasslehoff. “East and west I think.”

“Right,” Tas nodded, scribbling. “Do you have to wait for someone to open the doors?”

“No. Thankfully.” Going west Raistlin described the corridor and patiently explored the maze of corridors and rooms. Though he had barely explored half of them, Tas called for a halt, something Raistlin was all too keen for, slouching forward with a pant, brow drenched with sweat.

“I don’t think this is going to work, Tanis,” the kender said loudly, drawing the attention of the half-elf.

Stomping over, Tanis shot a dark look at Raistlin before crouching and surveying the map. “How do you mean, Tas? The map looks okay to me. Though… there are _a lot_ of rooms,” he acknowledged.

“And Raistlin still hasn’t found the route up,” Tas noted. “But he looks dreadfully pale and we’ve been at this a while. I think we should stop.”

“He’s right, Tanis,” called Flint. “We’ve used up a lot of time and if we have to wait for the wizard to recover that just means the enemy has longer to reach us. Can you march?” he added, looking at Raistlin.

“March yes, run? No,” Raistlin replied, chest heaving. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Next to him, Tanis pointed to a section of the map.

“What’s here?”

“Oh, that’s a person. A Plainsmen, Raistlin thinks,” Tas explained, drawing the attention of Goldmoon and Riverwind.

“A Plainsmen?” Goldmoon repeated.

“A Plainswoman specifically,” Raistlin clarified. “They were in some rubble. Hiding, I think,” he added, “She didn’t look trapped.”

“Then we must rescue her,” Goldmoon said firmly, her tone allowing for no argument, although wasting resources extracting the woman would obviously interfere with their current goal.

“Were there any others?” Riverwind asked Raistlin. “Do you know who took her down there?”

The mage shook his head, pulling himself to his feet. Stumbling, he reached out, the Staff of Magius appearing in his hand. Planting the staff firmly on the ground, he lent on it, took a deep breath through his nose. A hand rested on his shoulder. Turning, Raistlin saw Caramon looking at him with concern.

“I’ll be fine, Caramon,” Raistlin assured softly. “Spell fatigue doesn’t last too long.” He’d get over the initial exhaustion quickly, but the bone-level tiredness would linger, make him hesitant to cast again while at the same time crave to feel the magic burning in his veins.

With a reluctant sigh, Tanis gave the order for everyone to pack up. “Alright, Riverwind said there were some stairs leading down. It’s possible that since the Cataclysm there’s been enough movement to the land that we might find our way to the dragon that way.”

The half-elf didn’t seem happy with the situation and cast a dark look over his shoulder at Raistlin as he spoke to Flint softly several feet away. The hand on Raistlin’s shoulder tightened, Caramon frowning, also seeing Tanis’s glance.

“I’m used to it,” Raistlin whispered, tapping Caramon’s fingers with his free hand. Gently, he pushed Caramon’s hand free and walked slowly over to the door Riverwind was opening. Behind him, Caramon gave a half-hearted call for his brother but cut himself off, seeming to think better of it.

* * *

“I don’t like the look of that staircase,” Raistlin said passing through the doorway. He frowned at the moss and fungi growing out of cracks in the stone and noted that more than one step looked structurally unsound or was missing entirely from the stairs as they spiralled down into darkness. There was however, no other way down it seemed.

“You’re at the front, Raistlin,” Tanis ordered. “We need light and if you recognise anything that would let us use the map Tas made, it’s best you’re at the head.”

Raistlin turned to the half-elf, eyebrow arching. “Right…” Huffing a breath through his nose, Raistlin began to descend slowly, triggering the light of his staff as he went. Caramon quickly fell into step protectively behind him and the twins could hear the others dealing with the order they would head down too.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Caramon mumbled, brows furrowed as he carefully watched his step so as not to trip and sent he and Raistlin tumbling down the steep staircase.

“It’s fine,” said Raistlin.

“No, Raist. Tanis isn’t being fair to you,” Caramon shook his head. “He’s been particularly nasty since we entered Xak Tsaroth.”

Raistlin hummed, “Maybe there’s something in the air? I recall you and I both being a little short tempered too.”

Caramon gave a soft snort. “I’m a delight,” he said matter-of-factly. Both twins broke into laughter at that, hurriedly controlling themselves at a sharp bark from Tanis to be silent. “Seriously though, Raist. Something is off and I don’t think it’s right.”

Raistlin shrugged a shoulder, “You know how people are about mages. I imagine you’re the same, at least to some extent.”

“What? No, of course not!”

“Caramon, even other mages are wary of me. I really am used to it,” Raistlin insisted. Above him, Caramon paused on the steps, something Raistlin only noticed after several moments, having to turn and crane his neck to see his brother. “Caramon?”

It was probably just the light of his staff, but Raistlin could swear he saw tears prickle in Caramon’s eyes. “Do… you not have anyone to care about you, Raist?” Caramon’s halt had caused the entire group to stop and while Raistlin could see Tanis pushing his way around people to get to the front and establish the situation, both Caramon and Raistlin ignored his command for an explanation.

“Raist,” Caramon said, his voice weaker than a whisper, but he may as well have been shouting for how the words struck Raistlin, “did you come back because there’s no one?”

“It…it’s not like that.” Raistlin looked to the ground, unable to meet his brother’s gaze. Unable to come up with a better reply, Raistlin turned on his heel and hurried down the remainder of the stairs.

The staircase had been struck in the Cataclysm it seemed, for wherever it had originally led was now buried under rubble, leaving the companions in a low-ceilinged cavern of sorts, the floor an uneven mess of broken stone and collapsed ceiling. They were forced to proceed slowly, Flint in the lead testing for a safe path with Tasslehoff at his side, Raistlin slipping along in the middle of the group, constantly contorting to either reach for his staff or to put it somewhere so that the others could see while he ducked under or around a particularly hindering boulder. At the back, Tanis was navigating with his elven-sight. He and Flint didn’t need light to see by and so having them front and rear was the easiest way for the humans to share the single light of Raistlin’s staff, which was ultimately safer in close, unventilated quarters than a torch would be.

It took them what felt like an hour if not longer to reach a more open space, many torchlights flickering far below in a vast underground city, showing repaired and ruined houses as well as the same bamboo structures the draconians above ground were using.

“Mind your step,” Flint warned. “The stones here are loose and the edge is a sheer cliff down.”

“How are we supposed to continue then?” asked Caramon. Flint pointed to a section of thick vines the size of Riverwind’s biceps that were growing over the edge of the cliff.

“They look to go the whole way down,” the dwarf noted.

Stepping forward, Goldmoon made to examine the vines more closely, only for the rock under her foot to shift, causing her to slip. Smothering a cry of surprise, Goldmoon hurried to catch herself, pitching forward and taking several steps toward the edge. Riverwind reached out to pull her to safety, but Goldmoon’s momentum had yet to stop, Riverwind missed her outstretched hand and Goldmoon fell over the edge.

“Gol-!” Tanis smacked a hand over Riverwind, cutting off his shout, while Raistlin leapt after Goldmoon, Sturm tackling Caramon to stop the big man from following.

Free-fall wasn’t something unknown to Raistlin. He had experienced it regularly when practising _Pvetherfal_ , though that had been jumping off of barn roofs and tailor shop buildings. He hadn’t actually leapt from such a height before. But it was more than a little late to reconsider.

Keeping his legs and staff arm close he angled himself towards Goldmoon with a stretched out hand. His heart beat loud and fast in his ears, his soul seeming to burn in his chest as fear rose within Raistlin, his breath coming in short gasps. But fear couldn’t cast magic and only magic would prevent them from becoming stains on the floor. “ _Pvetherfal._ ” Over and over Raistlin repeated the magical word, pulling Goldmoon close to him as he willed the arcane power to burn through his veins and save them. The Plainswoman clung tightly to Raistlin, so tight that he thought she would squeeze the breath out of him, not loosening her grip even as the spell finally started to slow their descent to practically nothing.

The two landed on the ground, weak knees causing them to crumble to the floor in a heap, pale and shaking.

“Th-thank you,” gasped Goldmoon. Nodding, Raistlin shuffled back from her and willed his stomach to stop churning.

Mouth clamped shut, Raistlin wobbled to his feet after a moment, staff in hand. Looking around them, they didn’t appear to be in immediate danger, but Raistlin was keen to get under cover. They had landed on a wide cobbled street lined with damaged houses on one side and huge piles of debris and rubble from a collapse on the other. Above them he could just make out the ledge where the others were and quickly covered and uncovered the glowing crystal of his staff in what he hoped was a universal signal for ‘all clear’ and not just something the Baron of Langtree specifically used with his troupes.

Behind him, Goldmoon had been searching the area more thoroughly. It seemed they had ended up in the same area where the other Plainswoman had been hiding as Goldmoon was helping dig the woman out of her hiding spot, the two speaking in their own language quietly.

Coming over to help, Raistlin offered the woman a hand and pulled her up. She was dressed in the same heavy furs as Goldmoon, but her hair was a dark chestnut and she was a good head smaller than the Chieftain’s Daughter.

“Her name is Sunstar,” Goldmoon explained. “She is of my village.”

“Congratulations. Does she have the Disks so we can leave?” Raistlin asked flippantly. “We need to hide, does she know somewhere safe?” She didn’t. It also seemed she didn’t speak Common if the way Sunstar spoke quickly to Goldmoon and pointing down the way seeming to beg the woman.

Slowly, Goldmoon translated the words for Raistlin, “She was imprisoned, along with her brother. He’s down that way, but draconians are looking for her.”

“Bugger.” Raistlin was still too tired to use his Sight, but that didn’t mean they could stay put. “Stick close, we’ll have to risk one of the draconian houses.” There were three such bamboo houses down the road at a junction to the east, though whether they were occupied or not, Raistlin couldn’t be sure. “They’ll provide the best cover. Tell her we’re hiding while we wait for the others.”

The first door they entered was blissfully empty of draconians, and also devoid of furniture, bar a cot made of straw on the floor.

“I’ll keep watch,” Goldmoon offered, allowing Raistlin to settle on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose and trying to think of a plan. Goldmoon would likely insist they rescue the other Plainsmen, which while not a complete issue once the others arrived, would probably mean splitting up.

He must have dozed off at some point, for he came awake to large hands shaking him. “Raist, are you alright? You’re really pale,” Caramon explained looking down at Raistlin his eyebrows furrowed.

Raistlin shifted forward regretted the action almost immediately, raising a hand to rub his face and hide the grimace as his muscles protested. It seemed he’d been asleep for a while, his bum aching at the change of position. “Tireder than I thought,” he offered Caramon. “I’ll be fine. Has Goldmoon explained about the Plainsmen?”

“She said there was another imprisoned,” Sturm confirmed over Caramon’s shoulder.

“We’re thinking of splitting up!” Tasslehoff added gleefully, “I’d love to explore this place. And since the section we’re in is mapped out, we can fill in the rest!”

“Doorknob,” Flint grunted, rolling his eyes and looking to Tanis. “Splitting up isn’t ideal. We’re a big group that will get spotted, but at least we can defend ourselves.”

“Alternatively, branching out means we can scatter the draconian forces,” Raistlin acknowledged. “Tas, your map.” The kender was all too eager to provide, laying the scroll out on the floor. Crouching by the map, Raistlin pointed, “If the faster of us were to race around this section, we could distract a good chunk of the draconians and lure them away from the dragon here,” he said, passing his finger over the dragon’s lair. “It’ll be dangerous, but the rest can find the Disks and escape and the ones running distraction also leave after a specified amount of time…” he trailed off with a shrug. “That’s the best plan I have.”

“It’s not much of one,” Tanis pointed out.

“Do you have a better one?”

The half-elf sighed. “Not really. We’re here and Sunstar believes her brother is along this corridor.” He pointed to a section of the map Raistlin hadn’t explored with his Sight earlier. “Which also happens to be near the dragon. I suppose if some of us went off to free him and then the Plainsmen joined up with those distracting the dragonians, then you all made your escape… that could work?”

“Possibly. But who goes where?” asked Sturm.

“I’ll go with the ones running!” volunteered Tas. “I’d like to look at the dragon’s lair, but I don’t suppose many of you have experience escaping and taunting. Those,” he said, puffing his chest out, “are a kender’s speciality.”

“I’m not one for cheating and hiding,” said Sturm with a hint of derision. “I’ll go with the recue group and help look for the Disks.”

“I’ll also join the runners,” Goldmoon nodded to herself, handing the crystal staff to Riverwind. “You go help Sunstar and her brother, he may need healing.”

“But!” Riverwind made to argue, only for Goldmoon to glare at him. “… As you wish, Chieftain’s Daughter.” He didn’t look pleased in the slightest but Goldmoon would hear no arguments.

“I’ll go with Goldmoon’s group, friend,” Tanis offered, putting a hand on Riverwind’s arm. “Flint, you’re in charge of the rescue group.” Flint had the expression of a man who would rather eat a dragon than challenge it, but he nodded grimly and took the possession with more dignity that Riverwind had.

Sturm hummed, “I suppose it would make both groups evenly numbered if Caramon came with us and Raistlin goes with Tanis, Tas and Goldmoon.”

Caramon looked to Raistlin, questioning brown eyes trying to assess Raistlin’s condition. Raistlin shrugged. “I’d rather not run but it might be easier to regroup if I go with the distracting group,” he acknowledged.

“And because it’s your plan,” Tanis added sharply.

Ignoring him, Raistlin used his staff to stand up.

“I’m not sure,” Caramon put in slowly. “Raist was asleep when we got here, maybe he needs to stay behind-”

“And get caught off-guard alone?” Raistlin said with a snort. “I’d rather avoid that. I’ll go,” he told Caramon. “But you have to swear not to get killed by the dragon.”

A smile tugged at Caramon’s lips. “Same with you and the draconians.”

Tanis pointed at various areas on the map, explaining the route for the rescuers while the rest familiarised themselves with nooks and crannies and side passages where they would hopefully be causing ruckus. “Sunstar will lead you to her brother, then take him safely away while you move on to the dragon’s lair. Once Sunstar and Nightwing are free, they are to head up to this junction, calling like jackdaw and escape via the vines we climbed down to get here,” Tanis explained. “The head start should allow them to be mostly up before the running group joins them. Flint, your group will also need to find a way out.”

The old dwarf hummed, stroking his beard. “I’ve been thinking about that. If your lot can kill any draconians, that will help us,” he began. “I also think it’s possible to cause a number of rock slides here that would cause panic and allow us an escape route too.” He pointed to two points near the dragon’s chamber. “If the rocks here are fragile like the ones you say the little Plainswoman was hiding in, it should draw more guards, letting us get the brother and perhaps a clear shot at the dragon’s lair. Is… that dragon in her lair?” he asked hesitantly, looking to Raistlin.

“Probably.” Taking a breath, Raistlin cast his Sight over. “She’s there.” He cut the connection quickly, stomach rolling with dragonfear. Caramon’s hand fell on his shoulder.

“You’re all pale, Raist. I’m coming with your group.”

Raistlin shook his head. “You need to go.” He shifted to whisper into Caramon’s ear. “You have Stubborn Sturm remember? If he decides Flint’s approach isn’t honourable enough, who’s going to drag him off? Riverwind doesn’t know him well enough to persuade him and Flint’s strong, but small.”

Caramon groaned, Raistlin was right and they both knew it. “Fine, but swear I’ll see you alive at the end of this.”

Raistlin reached for his brother’s arm. “I swear it.” Caramon gripped his arm tightly in return, staring intently into Raistlin’s eyes, searching for a hint of doubt. Satisfied, Caramon released him and nodded sternly at Flint and Tanis, clapping Sturm on the back as he went to wait by the door.

Sturm rose to stand beside Caramon, talking to the big man in hushed tones. Raistlin paid them no heed, focusing instead on Tanis who was suggesting their group go first, spreading out to begin the distraction as widely as possible. “After a count of three hundred, Flint’s team heads off to Nightwing.”

“Then to the dragon,” Flint nodded.


	7. Dragons and Disks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> So, I'm doing Nanowrimo this year, or at least trying to. This fic is basically gonna be the thing my deliberating brain goes to when I'm staring at my main project and dying inside. I'd like to update every week, but I'm just not there yet in terms of organising myself - on the plus side, you have a longer chapter than before to make up for my sloppy update schedule XD
> 
> Sorry for the mixed POVs, but that's kinda DL's thing and I didn't really have enough to warrant everyone getting their own chapter

Going their separate ways there were no more words, each member grimly thinking it might be the last time they saw their friends and comrades. The dragon might be in her lair now, but once the runners caused chaos, there was every chance she would leave, or else incinerate Caramon and the others.

Putting that grim thought out of his mind, Raistlin followed behind Goldmoon and Tanis, a rock in his stomach. Tas was in the lead, the deft kender checking around corners for draconians. Their plan was to avoid detection until they were far enough from the house the others were hiding in, that Flint’s group would have a mostly clear journey towards Nightwing’s cell when the alarm was sounded.

Concerningly, all the street corners looked the same at first glance, though this dissuaded Tasslehoff little, the kender sure of his way through the ruined city and it’s mishmash of temporary bamboo housing and solid, if dilapidated, stone structures of Xak Tsaroth.

“Alright, Tas,” Tanis called softly, drawing the group to a halt. “Time’s almost up. We need to draw the draconians to us, now.”

“How, Tanis?” asked Tas turning to the de facto leader.

Raistlin removed two vials from a pouch on his belt smiling grimly. “Leave that to me.”

Goldmoon shifted for a better look, her eyebrows raised as Raistlin uncorked both vials and poured the contents of one into the other, causing the liquids to turn a concerning shade of green, bubbling somewhat violently when Raistlin re-corked the filled vial. “What are those?”

“They call it Alchemist’s Fire in the Tower of High Sorcery. Essentially it’s two components that are stable on their own but once mixed become volatile and explode upon an impact,” Raistlin said, fighting back a smirk when Tanis shot forward to grab Tasslehoff’s hand, stopping the kender from reaching out to the vial. Taking a step away from the group and selecting a house, Raistlin threw the vial and was rewarded with the glass shattering and the house going up in a whoosh of bright green flames. With the houses either side being made of bamboo it didn’t take long for the fire to catch and spread.

“That… will stop won’t it?” Tas asked. “Because I was fairly sure before that the plan was we’d just be running around and now if the city is on fire that could make it quite hard to escape.”

“Yes, Tas,” Tanis bit, his eyes locked harshly on Raistlin, “Yes it could.”

“Think of it this way,” Raistlin offered mildly, “At least the draconians are very unlikely to bother Flint and the others. Oh look, company.” Stepping out into the road, Raistlin waved at the draconian. The large lizard had been preoccupied with ordering the other draconians around, probably wanting to find one of their magically blessed comrades to use a water spell and put out the blaze, but turned, Raistlin’s movement catching its peripherals.

“Gah, intruders!” it hissed.

Pivoting, Raistlin quirked his head at Tanis, “ _Now_ we can run.” The clanging of metal armour and feet pounding the ground grew louder as draconian re-enforcements filled the burning section of the city, alarm horns sounding. A perfect signal to the others that the draconians had their hands full.

Tas flew down a side street with a joyous cry, swinging his hoopak and taunts around with ease, earning himself a good dozen lizardmen chasing his topknot. Goldmoon harried off too in the opposite direction, collecting her own hoard of draconians by shouting, “I’m going to get the blue crystal staff!” An obvious lie as she pointedly chose a direction away from the path the others would be taking.

“Very effective,” Raistlin praised, following Tanis at a run down the main street.

“Why are you following me?” Tanis balked, “Split up!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m turning right at the end of the road,” Raistlin said with a roll of his eyes.

But Tanis apparently wasn’t done. “I can’t believe you set fire to the houses. We’re underground! The fumes could kill us! And what about if it causes a cave in?”

“We need their undivided attention. Between us and a fire they’re aware could be fatal, I’m sure the dragonians will fix it,” Raistlin said dismissively, veering to the right as they reached a junction in the street. “Stop worrying. We’re all grown adults,” he grumbled under his breath wondering how anyone put up with Tanis.

A bolt of magic struck the back of his leg, sending Raistlin head over heels rolling before landing in a heap on the floor. Picking himself up, he found a draconian already chanting and aiming another spell at him. Behind him Raistlin could make out Tanis being chased in the opposite direction by a group of the dragon men. There would be no help from the half-elf.

“Bugger.” Picking himself up, Raistlin tried to catch the words to have some idea of what spell might be coming his way and give him a clue how to counter or avoid it.

Fanning his fingers out, thumbs touching, Raistlin cast his spell quickly, “ _Kair tangus miopiar_!” Fire shot from his fingertips, colliding with the webs the draconian’s spell had produced and reducing them to tatters on the cobbled road between them.

“Foul mage!” the draconian sneered, clutching its fists in anger.

Raistlin snorted, “You also cast magic, draconian. Are we really so different?”

The lizard man replied with another spell, engulfing the street in thick, impenetrable darkness. Careful to not make too much noise, aware the dragonian couldn’t see in the darkness either, Raistlin slipped to the side of the street, hand flailing around until he found cool stone and what he hoped was the entrance to a side street. Last time he’d made the mistake of staying still and had gotten poisoned, not again.

Moving swiftly, Raistlin crept down the street, straining his ears for any signs the draconian was moving or had noticed he was gone. Soon though, he had escaped the limits of the darkness and circled around, looking for the lizard man he had been fighting. Sure enough, he found the hulking brute on the edge of the dome of darkness.

This draconian was different than the ones Raistlin remembered from the camp in Xak Tsaroth. It was bigger, much bigger, it’s colouring darker, closer to bronze than the brassy brown of the other dragonians he’d seen. Handily though, sneaking up on armoured behemoths was something of a speciality of Raistlin’s. Sure the soldiers in the baron’s human army weren’t eight feet tall, nor were their enemies, but the act of being quiet and staying out of peripherals was essentially the same. Leaving his staff hidden against the wall of the building beside him, Raistlin crept out into the street, keeping low to the ground and focused on the draconian, gaze flitting between the creature’s head and its arms, searching for signs it had spotted him. However the dragonian seemed focused on the ball of darkness, where it seemed convinced Raistlin still remained.

Flexing his right hand to loosen the sling tying the dagger to his wrist, Raistlin caught the handle deftly and struck like a cobra, driving the blade deep into the back of the draconian’s neck. The beast let out a guttural cry that was abruptly cut off with a harsh twist of the blade in its throat as Raistlin hurried to retrieve it before the draconian turned to stone.

Only… that didn’t seem to be happening. Instead the creature swelled like some grotesque toad, its eyes bulging out of its head. Caught off guard, Raistlin only had time to instinctively shield his face with his arms before the draconian exploded, sending the mage flying.

Landing hard on his back, arms and chest burning, Raistlin let out a whimper. He tried to roll over and get out of the street, aware someone would likely be drawn by the blast, but his arms had no strength and collapsed under him. His vision swam and went black.

* * *

Being raised in the wilderness of Qualinesti, Tanis had spent a fair amount of his youth running. Be it playing hunters with his cousins or racing after animals just to see if he could keep up with them. When he would accompany Flint to Haven sometimes Tanis would also chase after thieves, though he didn’t always win the fisticuffs that would happen once he caught up with them. All that experience running was useful now though, he thought as the half-elf checked over his shoulder.

He’d been leading the dragonians following him around for some time now, dodging thrown daggers, skidding around corners and trying to avoid being cut off when some of the dragonmen occasionally split off to try get in front of him. Luckily for Tanis, his leather armour was light and afforded him quicker movement than the chainmail that weighed down several of the draconians chasing him.

He hadn’t come across any of the others yet, though that was partially by design. They had each taken a section of the city to run around in with intent to only meet up when they lost their tails and could escape. And he couldn’t make an effort to shake the draconians until he heard the Plainsmen give the signal. Hopefully Flint and the others hadn’t run into trouble saving Sunstar’s brother. Tanis would never be able to forgive himself if he had sent his friends into a trap.

His chest was burning and his legs felt like jelly by the time the call of a jackdaw rang through the streets. “Thank the gods,” Tanis muttered barrelling down a street and smacking his shoulder into the bamboo wall, his momentum a little too much for the harsh turn. Stumbling slightly, Tanis hurried to find his rhythm again and narrowly avoided a blade from cutting his pointed ear off. Dodging around another corner, Tanis found some ruined buildings he had scouted on earlier passes through this part of the city. Their shattered walls granted decent stepping stones to give Tanis height, his momentum allowing him to make the climb swiftly and leap onto the partially intact slatted roof of the next house. Pausing to look back at the draconians, Tanis smirked. None had followed his path; they were on the ground, either stopping to glare at him or continuing around the buildings on foot.

Taking a moment to find his location in relation to the vines that would lead to their escape, Tanis realised there were a number of buildings with seemingly stable roofs he could use to speed up his escape before slipping back to ground level and joining up with Goldmoon, Tas and Raistlin.

The half-elf’s journey was unimpeded from there on, and he made it to the vines just after Goldmoon, the woman embracing her kin tightly. From Nightwing’s torn furs and leggings, it looked as though he’d had a tough time of it with the draconians, though he had no visible injuries. _The staff must have healed him_ , Tanis mused, closing the distance between him and the Plainsmen. “Any sign of Tas or the mage?” he asked Goldmoon.

“No, I didn’t see them. It would be wiser to wait for them above,” she noted, looking to the vines with trepidation.

“The vines are firm,” he said reassuringly. “They’ll definitely hold our weight, but they’re slick, the climb will take time.”

“All the better to get started then,” Nightwing said slowly. His voice was deep and he took care to enunciate, as though he didn’t speak Common often. Likely that was the case since the nomadic Plainsmen rarely had need of town markets, able to hunt or salvage their own food and supplies from the wilderness. “I am thankful to you and your friends for helping Chieftain Goldmoon,” he said to Tanis as he tested a vine.

“Chieftain? Not Chieftain’s Daughter?” Tanis asked. “I’m Tanis by the way,” he introduced, selecting a vine of his own and carving a marking into it to alert Tas to the fact they had gone ahead and climbed up.

“Nightwing. And yes, Chieftain. She has been our leader even before her father died. I would not do her the disrespect of calling her otherwise.”

From his peripherals, Tanis could see Goldmoon focusing her attention on Sunstar, perhaps embarrassed by Nightwing’s words if the light flush to her cheeks was anything to go by. Then again it could just have been from the large amount of running they had been doing not long ago.

There wasn’t much room to talk while climbing, intense focused was needed by each person to hold themselves up and slowly pull them higher up the vines. Once they were at the top and safely away from the edge to avoid a repeat accident of someone falling over the edge, Tanis spoke up. “I’m not convinced Raistlin will make it back up here, he struggled to climb the trees back in Solace, and the way up here isn’t exactly a short climb.”

Goldmoon nodded, hands on her knees panting lightly. “He’ll probably try to meet the other group and find a way of escaping that doesn’t involve climbing. He may even have found one already with his gift.”

“Gift?” wondered Nightwing.

“Yes, he’s a mage. And the brother of Caramon, the other large human with Riverwind,” Tanis explained.

Nightwing frowned, “Ah yes, more magic to go with that wretched staff.” He spat on the floor with a sneer.

“If you mean the staff that _healed_ you, Nightwing, I suggest you rethink your tone,” Goldmoon shot testily.

“What are you doing with these people anyway? With that fool, Riverwind?” Nightwing asked her. “That staff caused our village to be burned to a crisp. I would not protect it for the sake of one man over my people.”

“Then in that, we differ,” Goldmoon stood firm. “Riverwind completed his journey, it is not my fault my father and many others thought it a fool’s errand. The Gods have made their presence known. That is why we are here, to seek another holy artefact.”

“An artefact?”

“Yes, platinum disks. Belonging to Mishakal.”

“Nightwing,” Tanis spoke up, taking the opportunity to diffuse the tension between the Plainsmen. “Do you know anyone or thing called Verminaard?”

The Plainsman jolted, his dark eyes widening. “Well, I do not know them, but I have heard the name thrown about. The lizard things call him Lord Verminaard. Their commander I believe.”

“So there is a hierarchy,” Tanis mused cupping his chin in thought.

At that moment, a terrible shaking rattled the cavern. Looking out across the city, Tanis could see the extent of Raistlin’s Alchemist Fire, the devastation it had wrought, though the blaze seemed mostly contained and not the cause of the shockwave. Over the other side of the city where Flint, Caramon, Riverwind and Sturm were supposed to be huge chunks of the ceiling were coming down and a shriek echoed through the fallen city. The cry of the dragon.

Daring to step closer to the edge, Tanis squinted into the darkness below, trying to spot Tasslehoff at the bottom of the vines only to be pulled back violently by his collar. A huge chunk of rock dropped before Tanis’s eyes, right where his head had been only a moment ago.

“Th-thank you,” he said breathlessly, turning to find Nightwing.

“We should leave, it is no longer safe.”

Frowning Tanis opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. He knew the climb up here had been challenging before, but it was harrowingly dangerous now. No one who wasn’t already climbing up would come. But his friends were in danger and he wasn’t with them.

“Tanis,” Goldmoon called, interrupting his thoughts. “We need your help through the darkness.” He turned to see her gesturing to the tunnel that had lead them here. “If we don’t hurry the tunnel could collapse and we will not be able to reunite with the others.”

She was right, he knew, but that didn’t make Tanis any more willing to abandon the fallen city. They had to go though, and quickly. Turning his back on Xak Tsaroth, Tanis joined the Plainsmen and clamoured back into the tunnel that led to the Temple of Mishakal.

* * *

The cavern the ruined city had found itself in was crumbling. Huge boulders fell from the ceiling, the ground rattled as if hit by a second Cataclysm. Flint’s feet danced over the unsure footing with ease, the hill dwarf used to traversing less than flat terrain at speed. Beside him Sturm pelted along, his armour rattling loudly and stumbling occasionally though he did not lose the tight grip on the leather satchel he clasped to his breastplate.

“Which way, Flint?!” Caramon roared, bringing up the rear, his chain shirt in tatters, hand covering a bloody acid wound.

“Right!” the dwarf replied, “I can feel the air shifting.”

Hopefully that meant a way out for the three. They’d seen the great plumes of smoke on the side of the city Tanis’s group had headed off to and it felt like hours since Sunstar and Nightwing had made their own escape, though in reality at best it could only have been thirty minutes. They rounded the corner and spotted two familiar figures in the middle of the road. “Tas! Raist!” Caramon shouted in surprise.

“Oh, hullo, Caramon. What happened to the dragon?” Tasslehoff asked from beside Raistlin, the mage’s staff in his hands. The mage was on all fours, auburn hair matted with blood, his robes singed and covered in dirt and burn holes.

“Raist, what happened?” Caramon asked, falling to the ground beside his brother.

“Ooh, what’s that, Sturm?” Leaving the brothers, Tas made his way over Flint and Sturm, the dwarf fuming, “Not now, Doorknob, the place is collapsing!”

Coughing harshly, Raistlin’s fingers gripped Caramon’s shoulder, about to try push himself to his feet before he saw Caramon’s own wound. “Later,” he rasped, looking over Caramon’s shoulder. “Where’s Riverwind?”

Sturm shook his head, plucking Raistlin’s staff from Tas with his free hand and walking over to the twins. “Not now,” he said, waiting until Raistlin was on his feet, hands gripping the staff tightly before going to help Caramon up. “We need to get out of here. Are the others safe?”

“I don’t know, we split up,” Tas explained. “I found Raistlin unconscious on the floor; he’d just woken up before you all found us.”

“Can you run?” Caramon asked his twin, voice laced with concern.

“I could ask you the same,” Raistlin sighed. He looked pale and exhausted, eyes screwing shut with a wince. “I can move. I just need a shoulder.”

Caramon made to help Raistlin, only for Sturm to catch his arm. “You’re hurt, Caramon. I can help Raistlin while carrying the Disks.”

“You’re sure?” he asked the knight warily, eyebrows knitted together.

Sturm gave a firm nod. “I’ve got him, Caramon.”

“If you’re done fighting over who gets to carry the mage,” called Flint from down the road, “I’ve found an incline, hurry up before it caves in or floods!”

“Floods?”

“We’re by Newsea, remember?” Raistlin reminded Tasslehoff, struggling along with Sturm’s help.

The incline Flint had found was a series of collapsed rock leading upward to a hole in the ceiling where evening sunrays shone down, giving them hope of escape. That same hole however was also letting down a torrent of water, making climbing hazardous if not deadly.

“Is this the only route, Flint!?” Caramon shouted over the waterfall.

“If you want to go back and look for another way, be my guest!” the dwarf roared back, he and Tasslehoff already several feet up.

Growling low in his throat, Caramon turned to Raistlin. “I don’t suppose you have a spell that floats you upwards?”

“Even if I did, I’m all out of magic right now,” the mage replied. “Can you climb with that wound?”

“Yeah,” Caramon assured with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We should be fine, so long as we’re faster the water.”

Sturm hummed, “It doesn’t look like anyone is following us and it definitely leads out.”

The climb however looked easier than it was. The five men seemed to be in a constant loop of testing stones, giving legs up and reaching down to pull each other up the next several feet, leaving them all exhausted, sore and sweating, the climb taking over an hour, though miraculously, no one had slipped.

When they finally got out onto the surface, Caramon was practically grey, most of his shirt stained with blood, the red liquid also seeping into his breeches. Raistlin wasn’t much better, his limbs trembling with the strain of climbing. They were all also soundly soaked, with Tasslehoff needing to wring out his topknot it was that saturated with water.

They seemed to have surfaced on the outer reaches of the city, where the buildings were decrepit and covered in moss, but standing. To the west, miasma-laced swamps bubbled and frothed nearby.

“Tas, we need to find shelter, if not Tanis and the others,” Flint said to the kender.

Understanding what Flint was getting at, Tasslehoff grinned. “I’ll find somewhere Flint. You make sure this lot don’t freeze to death.”

Nodding gruffly, Flint watched the kender go for a moment before turning to Caramon. “Let me get a look at you, lad,” he said softly, urging the big man to sit down by a low wall and rest.

“My pack,” Raistlin said to Sturm, seeing Flint start to carefully peel back the bloody fabric of Caramon’s tunic from his torso, “it’s got enchantments on it against water. There should be dry bandages inside.”

The knight went to it without question, shifting the contents of Raistlin’s pack around, roughly pulling out books and robes onto the ground beside him in his search. In any other situation, Raistlin would have hissed a scathing insult at Sturm for the utter disregard for his belongings, but Caramon’s life meant more than dirty robes and parchment.

“Flint, here,” Sturm handed over the bandages once he’d located them. Thanking the knight, Flint looked back to the wound. “I think the water from climbing up cleared out any acid, how are you feeling, Caramon?”

The big man grunted weakly. “… Raist?” His brown eyes were unfocused, searching.

“I’m here, oaf, focus on yourself for now.” Coming over to land in a heap by Caramon, Raistlin found his brother’s hand. The mage looked like he might fall asleep any moment, and though he lacked the strength to do more than link a couple of fingers with Caramon’s, the bigger twin seemed much calmer for knowing Raistlin was there.

Flint turned to Sturm, concern plain on his face. “We can’t let them fall asleep, Caramon’s lost too much blood and Raistlin’s head looks as bad as yours did,” he said to the knight. “Hopefully that kender doesn’t get lost on the way and brings Tanis or Goldmoon here soon.”

“Try get Caramon talking. It doesn’t matter about what, just keep him going, I’ll keep Raistlin awake,” Sturm ordered softly. Turning to the slighter twin, he shook Raistlin’s shoulder until the man groaned and turned tired blue eyes to meet Sturm’s brown. “Don’t look at me like that, this is payback for Darken Wood,” he told Raistlin with a smirk.

“It wasn’t that torturous was it?” Raistlin rasped, shifting his head from where it lay against Caramon’s shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure it was. You need to stay awake,” he pressed. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything you want. Tell me a story,” Sturm suggested, giving Raistlin another shake as the man’s eyelids slid shut and took several seconds to reopen.

A whine escaped Raistlin’s throat before he replied, “I only know boring stories.”

“I was raised on stories of Huma and reciting the Measure. I know all about boring,” Sturm told him, earning a chuckle from Raistlin.

“Fine.” Reaching up, Raistlin rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Maybe tell me how you came to look like human cheese?” Sturm prompted. “Are you okay?”

“I… No. Probably not,” the mage admitted slowly, coughing harshly to clear his throat. He stared blankly ahead a moment before speaking, “I split off from Tanis after setting some houses on a fire. Got in a fight with a dragonian.”

“Ah, so the fire was you,” Sturm hummed. “Did the flames scorch you?” he asked, gesturing to the burns on Raistlin’s arms.

Raistlin shook his head wincing, “No. The dragonian exploded. It was a different type than the others.” The mage didn’t speak then for some time, concerning Sturm.

“Raistlin, Raistlin!” he called, shaking the man. Raistlin didn’t even twitch. A glance to Flint and Caramon showed Flint was struggling with the big man too. “Raist! Wake up!” Sturm shouted, startling Raistlin, Caramon and Flint, the twins jolting awake and looking around in confusion.

“Did I..?” Caramon muttered, looking around uncomprehendingly.

“Flint! I found them!” Tas cried from the distance, running ahead of Tanis and the Plainsmen. Four Plainsmen.

“But how?” Sturm gasped looking over. “Riverwind. He… he died fighting the dragon didn’t he?”

“Apparently not,” Flint rumbled, moving aside along with Sturm as Goldmoon knelt between the two brothers. “What happened?” he asked Tanis.

“We fled up the vines and into the temple. Somehow Riverwind was already there,” the half-elf relayed.

“Asleep!” Nightwing added in a growl.

Riverwind, arms over his massive chest grumbled, “I’ll endeavour to stay awake the next time I’m killed.”

“But how did you survive?” Sturm pressed, looking at the Plainsman in wonder. He looked the same as he had before they had gone into the dragon’s lair, with the exception of a blue crystal medallion around his neck. A glance at Goldmoon showed she also bore a medallion, one hand clasping it firmly, her other raised over the twins.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Riverwind admitted. “I remember the dragon, and hearing a voice from all around and within. It told me the staff could kill the dragon. After that, it gets a bit foggy. I don’t remember being in pain, but I know the staff erupted in flames. I was on fire, but didn’t feel it. It… it felt like I was being gently pulled away. As though I were a child and my parent was raising me up to their chest.”

“How strange,” Sturm mused stroking his moustache.

Riverwind continued, “When I awoke I was in Mishakal’s temple with these,” he pointed to the medallion, “I don’t know why, but I feel the same warmth from them as I did the staff and the other one seemed to resonate with Goldmoon. She knows spells of healing now.”

“And a good thing too, we nearly lost Caramon,” Flint said softly. Turning back to the twins, Sturm saw that they were both still very pale, but they looked awake and more aware now. Fear still twisted in the knight’s gut, sharp and unbidden. He hadn’t been able to do anything against the dragon. Caramon had gotten acid on him protecting Sturm and the Disks. Riverwind had almost died a second time so that Sturm could run away.

“Did you get the disks?” Tanis asked Sturm, distracting the knight his dark thoughts.

“Ah, uhm, yes. They’re here,” Sturm pointed to the leather satchel.

Nightwing turned to his Chieftain. “What will you do now that you have what you came for?”

Turning from the twins after checking their wounds were sealed and worries eased, Goldmoon stood and turned to Nightwing. “I owe these people who risked their lives to help Riverwind and I a debt. So I will pay my dues and make sure they can return to their homes safely.”

Nightwing’s eyes narrowed. “And what about us? Qué-Shu is gone.”

“But the people live, do they not?” Nightwing’s jaw tensed, which was enough of an answer for Goldmoon. “Go to them. Tell them I shall return soon. That is an order,” she added darkly, catching Nightwing’s gaze shifting accusingly to Riverwind.

The man’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Yes, Chieftain.” He beckoned to his sister, speaking softly. Looking sadly between Nightwind and Goldmoon, Sunstar’s eyes filled with tears. Softening, Goldmoon reached out and embraced the other woman, kissing her forehead.

* * *

The companions made camp on the edge of a forest as far from Xak Tsaroth as they could get. Caramon and Raistlin were looking better by nightfall, Caramon cheerfully describing the daring rescue of Nightwing to Tas in gruesome and likely exaggerated detail. Not that that prevented Tas from gasping in delight and hanging onto every word. Raistlin was more reserved, curled up by the fire in his blanket, reading a book in his lap. Sturm lay on his bedroll beside the mage, reading a worn book with a tired cracked leather cover propped up against his overturned dinner bowl. Riverwind and Goldmoon were curled up together talking softly in their language. Sunstar and Nightwing had gone, their travel swift and sure, seeming to know where they should head to find the other Plainsmen of Qué-Shu.

Tanis and Flint were on watch, grumbling together like old housewives, occasional snippets of conversation drifting into camp. “So… what do we do now? Do we leave the Plainsmen with the Disks? Doesn’t feel right,” said Tanis. “That said, I don’t even know where to try asking about the old gods.”

“Perhaps between Sturm’s childhood lessons and Tasslehoff’s maps we can find another temple somewhere?” Flint suggested. “Though to be honest, I don’t much fancy heading north.”

“Oh, Raist.” Turning to his brother, Raistlin saw Caramon pull a tome from his pack with a night-blue leather cover and silver rune engravings. “I found this in the dragon’s treasure pile not far from the Disks. I thought it might be of use. Raist?” he added in confusion, staring at Raistlin as the mage’s face lost all colour.

“Throw it on the fire, Caramon.”

“What? But, why, what’s wrong with it?”

Raistlin shook his head, swallowing. “It’s a spellbook, but it’s one I want nothing to do with. Please brother. Please get rid of it.” _Anyone but him_.

Raistlin’s tone had taken on something akin to fear, drawing the attention of the others while Caramon stared at his twin, eyebrows furrowed.

“If even you do not want it, it must be full of evil,” Riverwind noted, while Sturm shifted onto his elbows for a better look.

Caramon flushed glaring at Riverwind, “My brother _isn’t_ evil.”

“What do you know about it? The spellbook,” the knight wondered drawing attention back to Raistlin, who shrunk into his blanket. “Is it that bad?”

“The worst,” confirmed Raistlin. His eyes flickered to the spellbook and away as though the tome physically caused him pain. “It used to belong to one of the most infamous wizards the Conclave has ever known. They called him Fistandantilus.”

“How can you be sure?” Caramon frowned and looked it over, “I can’t read any of this.”

Raistlin closed the book in his lap, showed it to Caramon. “This is my spellbook, and I’m a red robe right? That’s why it’s bound in red leather. White robes and black robes use the same method. But that one you’re holding is actually dark blue. Only one wizard ever used that kind of binding for their spellbooks, and no wizard in the Conclave would ever wish to be mistaken for him.” Looking down at his lap, Raistlin screwed his eyes shut, raising his hand to cover his right eye. He could see the image of a young mage writing in that spell book. A black robe, not yet having betrayed the Conclave. But even so young, when looking at the spellbook of Fistantandilus, Raistlin couldn’t read the spells scribed onto the pages. They were more advanced than he was capable of right now.

The Fistandantilus in his vision sealed the book, murmuring curses over it.

Lip curling in disgust at the spellbook in his hand, Caramon did as Raistlin had asked and tossed it onto the campfire. “What did he do that was so bad?” he asked, looking back to his brother who didn’t seem any more at ease. Tilting his head, Caramon reached out to put a hand on his twin’s shoulder. “Raist?”

Startling violently, Raistlin lunged forward, shoving his hand into the firepit and pulling the night-blue spellbook free of the flames, tossing it behind him onto the ground. Beside him, Sturm had darted to his knees, hurriedly pulling Raistlin’s blanket and spellbook away from the fire before they caught alight.

“What was that about?” Sturm demanded. “You tell him to burn it and then you nearly set yourself on fire pulling it back out!” Raistlin curled in on himself silent; cradling the hand he had stuck into the fire pit. The mage began to tremble and for a moment, Sturm did a double take, thinking that Raistlin was crying.

“I… I didn’t see before,” Raistlin said, his voice cracking slightly. “The runes, they… if you set the book on fire, it will explode.” Gently, Caramon reached up and guided Raistlin back to the ground, pulling Raistlin’s blanket back around his shoulders.

Sturm looked over at the spellbook, “So if we can’t get rid of it, what do we do with it?”

Raistlin let out a low groan a hand gripping his hair at the roots. “I guess if we can’t destroy the book, we’ll have to take it with us.”

“We are not taking it with us!” Goldmoon shot. “It’s evil, you said so yourself.”

“Well we can’t leave it,” Raistlin spat. “At least if we take it, no one is going to get use out of it. I’ll take it to the Tower of High Sorcery in Waywreth. Maybe they can get rid of it safely.” The mage however, looked defeated as though he’d just fought and lost a battle. He made no move to pick Fistandantilus’s spellbook back up.

“I… I’m sorry, Raist,” Caramon said after a while.

Raistlin laid down on his side, head on Sturm’s bedroll. “It’s fine, you didn’t know, Caramon.”

Caramon and Sturm looked at each other, then the spellbook. Neither made to retrieve it. A small, high-pitched voice perked up, “I guess I’ll carry it then. I’ve always wondered what’s inside an evil wizard’s spellbook. Uncle Trapspringer-”

As one, Caramon, Raistlin and Sturm cried, “TAS, NO!” Caramon slammed the book back shut, yanking it out of Tasslehoff’s small hands, face white as a sheet.

Tanis stomped back to the camp suddenly, “What is going on?! Do you want all the forest to know we’re here?” he demanded. “Caramon, give the book to Raistlin. Raistlin, get over yourself it’s a book and you are magi, deal with it. Sturm, Tas, you’re on watch.” Much like errant children realising they had reached the end of an adult’s patience, the men obeyed silently; Tas headed over to Flint for handover, Sturm picking himself up and following. Caramon turned to his brother and Raistlin reluctantly took the spellbook, stuffing it into his pack.

Night fell and the companions that weren’t on watch settled down for bed. For several hours, all was calm. Despite the earlier commotion, no one came to attack the companions in the dark. No dragons snuck up on them, no spectres appeared out of the treeline, but as Sturm walked back past his bedroll, intending to inform Riverwind it was his turn for watch, something shot upright beside him with a shout, startling the knight. There wasn’t much light and Sturm’s body reacted on instinct believing the thing was a threat: he punched it.

The thing recoiled with a curse. In common tongue. In a… familiar voice. “Ah, s-sorry!” Sturm whispered, crouching, realising he’d hit one of his friends. “Are you alright?”

“Aaahhh, oww,” Raistlin groaned, Sturm making out the mage’s thin silhouette in the night. “I… _oww_.”

“I really am sorry, you startled me. Bad dream?” he guessed, the others around them stirring but not rising.

“Y-yeah.” Raistlin rubbed his eyes. “I dreamt Solace was on fire.”

Sturm let out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous. Solace could never-.” He cut himself off.

“Sturm?”

“S-Solace… it _is_ on fire.”

“What?”

Pointing behind him, and shifting once he realised he was blocking Raistlin’s line of sight, Sturm spoke. “That red in the distance, that’s where Solace should be.” He hadn’t been facing that way while on watch, he’d been focused on Xak Tsaroth. A fatal error.

Raistlin stared at the light in the distance for long moments. “We should wake the others.”


End file.
